


The Edge

by hipsterhufflepuff



Series: The Edge [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: (for the most part), Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Assassins vs. Templars, Canon Compliant, Don't repost, Don't swim in freezing water kids, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Internal Conflict, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Original Character(s), so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterhufflepuff/pseuds/hipsterhufflepuff
Summary: Eleanor James keeps finding herself at the edge, where all decisions are to be made and the consequences are to be given. Every time she returns, her world view is shifted and changed, and difficult choices must be made, or everything that she has ever known will fall over the edge. But will she take the leap of faith, even if it means abandoning everything she knows?*Edited May 28th, 2020*
Relationships: Shay Cormac & Liam O'Brien, Shay Cormac/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Edge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780720
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm jumping in like 10 years late, but I'm here to write some fluffy and angsty shit :)
> 
> Drop a kudos or a comment below if you enjoyed!

**Davenport Homestead, 1746**

Eleanor knew that she had much to be grateful for. She had been an orphan on the streets of New York just a few months ago, stealing scraps and begging for the slightest bit of coin from townsfolk who would pretend not to see as they walked by. Too old for the orphanages, she was just too young to give herself over to the brothels for work, and no one would want to hire a sick and frail-looking teenager, afraid that one stray gust of wind would incapacitate her over. So Eleanor did what she had to do in order to survive, steal from the unsuspecting city folk. She could hear her late mother’s scolding words, but she was desperate, one missed meal away from wasting away in some grimy back alley.  
She hated to admit it, but she had become rather good at it. 

Yet, all it took was one day for it all to go wrong. Her target, a man portly man who looked as if he could afford to lose a few pounds (both in weight and coin), had turned around too soon, seeing her hand sneak out of his pocket. He lashed out before she could make a break for it, a meaty hand grasping her arm too tightly, loudly professing her crime and demanding the nearest platoon of soldiers to arrest her. She tried her hardest to wiggle free, the money wasn’t even worth the effort now, but he threw her to the ground, looming menacingly over her.

Just when she thought it would be the end of her freedom, either a jail cell or a noose if she was particularly unlucky, a hooded man approached them, asking the man to lower his voice. The stranger unlaced Eleanor’s coin purse with practiced ease, (almost like he was a thief himself), fat and lumpy with all of her weekly earnings. He offered it to the angry man, asking if that would have been enough to cover what she had stolen from him. With wide eyes and grabby hands, the angry man took the bribe. He pushed them out of his way and went about his day, leaving Eleanor to the fate of the stranger who had given away her food money. Would he give her up to the city soldiers? Or demand his own kind of payment?

The hooded man offered neither, escorting her to a nearby tavern, desolate in the broad daylight save for the people who worked there and a few of the usual customers. He bought her ale and enough food to fill her growling stomach. As she scarfed the food down, he commended her learned skill and asked her about her background. Despite the invasive questions from a stranger, she had answered him. This was the nicest that anyone had treated her in what felt like ages.

Eleanor had come to the Colonies before she could walk, her father passing away on a job-related injury before her first words. Orphaned merely six months ago after a bout of cholera had taken her mother and young brother, nearly claiming her own life. After finding out that she could not pay, the landlord booted her, where she had been living on the streets since. She had no relatives in the Colonies and no prospects except for what he had seen of her. 

The man lowered his hood, revealing a much younger man than she had anticipated. He admitted he had been watching her for a while now, seeing all of the work she had done for almost a month from a distance. While she had developing skills, he wanted to help her improve, to give her a cause worth fighting for. In exchange, she would have to give up her life in New York and move to the Frontier, fully submit to the ways of an Assassin.  
His words held a depth that she could not understand, but the offer to give her a roof over her head and something to live for was not something she could turn down. So, after introducing themselves, her as Eleanor and he as Liam, she followed after him, not sure of what she had gotten herself involved in.

Now, as she stands on the edge of a precipice, she felt an inkling of regret for so blindly following a stranger.

The wind whipped her hair into her face as Eleanor stared down what felt like thousands of feet below her from the edge of the cliff. The water was dark yet calm, still so far away.  
The other assassin initiates had already completed this daunting task, most of them with ease or enjoyment. Most everyone had gone inside after completing their task to begin celebrations for their upcoming induction, save for a handful, some of whom were starting to place bets on when she would jump, but even that number was dwindling. The Master Assassin who owned the Homestead and oversaw all of the Assassins, Achilles Davenport, had been there to encourage and assess their leaps, even he had been drawn away by another pressing matter. Even as the sun began its descent to the horizon, casting a lovely orange glow over the woods, she could not find herself moving to finish the task. 

It was taking every ounce of self-respect in Eleanor to not run away in fear. Her fellow apprentices would never let her hear the end of it if she could not do the simple leap if Achilles didn’t outright banish her for failing the trials. He would have every right, she grimaced and peered over the edge again. What kind of assassin couldn’t do the leap of faith?

“Ellie!” 

She refused to turn as a familiar voice was carried over the wind, feeling even more mortified than before. He was supposed to be on a mission in the frontier, not due back for another week, but Shay Cormac was one to defy expectations. Only a few years older than Eleanor, he was someone she had admired from day one, both on a professional and personal level. He was nearly the perfect assassin, as young as he was, only initiated a year previous to her. Some would say he could be the next Master Assassin if he were to learn some discipline.  
To have him catch her at a moment of weakness was humiliating.

“H-hi Shay.” She stuttered out.  
“Are you the last one? I told Liam to hurry up so we could get back for the ceremony, but I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.”  
Damn Liam for getting him back so soon, now he was going to see her fail to become an apprentice and shame her for her lack of conviction. Eleanor fought to keep her hands steady as she stared down the cliff edge. Maybe he would give her the strength needed to push her over. 

“Oh! Were you waiting for me?” He asked, eyes lighting up with excitement at the possibility. In anticipation of their assessments, he had offered to help her with the areas she struggled with. He spent weeks helping her perfect her form as she leaped from trees and the Homestead, perhaps he thought she wanted to show him the fruits of his labors.

“Uh, yeah, I was…” She said unconvincingly, but he hardly noticed.  
“Well, I’m here now. What are you waiting for?” He crossed his arms and smiled brightly. The smile broke her heart and she nearly broke down then and there. Eleanor moved a bit closer to the edge under his eager gaze, a thrill of fear making her stand up straighter and lock her knees. Holding her arms aloft, she let out a quiet breath, rising to her toes and bending her knees, ready to fall. 

But another look down had her reeling back to solid ground.

“C’mon Eleanor, you’ve got this. Remember what I taught you.” He said above the wind. She nodded tensely, yet she could not move her feet. Her breath was coming in short pants now, absolutely petrified.  
“Ellie, it’s okay.” She hated that nickname that Liam had given her, but the fear coursing through her veins overrode the need to correct him. “It’s always scary the first time, that’s why they chose the highest place to jump from, that way any other feels like nothing.” His voice was much closer, yet she refused to turn around, knowing the disappointment that she would see.  
She shook her head. It was stupid. She was being childish and silly. It would be over in an instance and still, she could not make the jump.

“You know, I know a secret to going through the jump, none of the other apprentices know it.”  
Eleanor’s shoulders sagged a bit. Just as she was about to turn and ask him, there was a forceful hand on her back, pushing her forwards until gravity took over. The bastard had the audacity to laugh at her terrified scream, echoing off of the cliffside and through the valley. 

Eleanor smacked the water as if it were cobblestone. The robes she wore immediately became waterlogged and the very breath was stolen from her, icy cold water filling her lungs when her mouth didn’t close in time. Her arms flailed and her legs kicked desperately, some animalistic instinct taking over, but uncoordinated as she had never been properly taught how to swim. The need never arose until this very moment.  
No matter how hard she tried, the surface seemed to stay far away and she was beginning to lose the energy to keep trying, adrenaline alone not enough to cut it. She couldn't tell if the water was becoming darker because of how deep she had sunk or if she were losing consciousness. Either way, her eyes were closing, the last bit of air escaping her.

A gloved hand grabbed hers, roughly pulling her closer and closer until she breached the surface, sputtering and gasping for breath as strong arms held her up, somehow managing to keep them both afloat and moving towards the shore. Eleanor was a complete deadweight, carried along until the pebbled ground was under her hands and knees. On shaking arms, she dragged her exhausted body further up, flopping down on her back with an exhausted groan and feeble coughs to rid the lake water from her lungs. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Shay was in no better shape, trembling and breathing roughly. He glanced over her way, crawling over to her with wide eyes.

“Christ, Ellie, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, I swear. Not until you didn’t come up for air.”  
How long had she been under the water? It felt like seconds, but it must have been long enough to make Shay worried, diving after her like some knight in shining armor.  
“It-It’s a good thing that you’re cute.”  
Jesus, did she really just say that? Might as well unveil her childish crush to him now, why didn’t she? 

To her relief, he barked a laugh, shaking his long hair out of his face in a spray of water.  
“I’ll bless my good looks then that you're not slapping the shit out of me.”  
“Had I any strength left, I would be.” Eleanor grumbled, shifting on the ground uncomfortably. From how hard she had hit the water, she would definitely bruise tomorrow, that was for sure, and she’d be damn lucky if she didn’t get sick from this. 

“Here.” He stood up, kneeling beside her to lift her into his arms. In any other circumstance, Eleanor would have protested, she hated being doted on like she was a child. She had worked too hard to let her tough demeanor be stripped away by being coddled by anyone, even Shay. But her entire body hurt, and she didn’t have the energy to fight. She blamed the lack of strength in her body for her head cradling into his chest. This was the least of what she deserved after what the stunt he just pulled. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He asked gently as he started the trek back to the Homestead.  
“Honestly, I didn’t think it was relevant until several hours ago.” The minute Achilles had led them to the cliff should have been a warning sign, but she had ignored it until it was too late to back down.

Shay shifted her weight slightly, her head now resting on his shoulder. “But you should have told someone. I’m sure that the Mentors would have helped, added swimming to your training at the very least.”  
She mumbled the next sentence, hoping that it would get lost in the rustling of fabric as they moved, but he had the ears of a hawk. 

“What was that?”  
“I... I said I didn’t want anyone to look down on me.” Eleanor admitted quietly. Most of the initiates had been born into this life, training for years, most of them were on their way to being full-fledged Assassins now, not an initiate like her. They were leagues ahead of her both in maturity and skill. She had been scrambling to catch up to them, but no matter how hard she worked, it never truly felt like it was enough.

“Everyone has something they need to practice. Like, I need to work on actually listening to directions while on missions, Liam needs to work on his aim, and you have to work on swimming. There’s no need for shame, no one is perfect. You’re my friend Eleanor, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, especially not ones that could get you killed.”  
“I’m sorry.” She muttered lowly.  
“You don’t need to apologize, lass.” His arms squeezed a bit as he shifted her again. 

The rest of the walk was in near silence, hardly making any noise as they walked back up the familiar path to the Homestead. Shay didn’t speak again until they could see the candles in the windows, hearing the distant music from an initiate who knew his way around the fiddle. Everyone must have been inside, which was a relief that they didn’t see her in such an uncomfortable position. As far as they knew, she had succeeded in her leap, even if it had taken longer than usual. 

“What if I helped you?”  
“Huh?”  
“When we’re both not busy with missions or training, I want to help you learn how to swim. You’re not always going to be on dry land, you need to be prepared. I’ve been swimming like a fish since I was a lad, I could help.”

“I don’t want to bother.” She scrambled for an excuse as he set her on her own feet, still wobbling a bit unsteady.  
“Nothing you could ever do would ever be a bother. What are friends for?”  
“Y-Yeah.” Eleanor couldn’t help the swooning of her heart, fluttering nervously in her chest. He was willing to help her, even just as friends, it was more than anyone had done for her since being adopted by the Assassins. “I would love that.”

His smile could have turned the night sky as bright as the day. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, chuckling deeply as they walked.  
“Let’s get you warmed up, Assassin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Davenport Homestead, 1754**

Eleanor's battle cry was forceful enough to send birds flocking away, disrupting the quiet of the woods around them. She sprung forwards, not waiting for her opponent to make the first move, parrying off their block and driving her blade forward. Her opponent was quicker, dodging the attack and moving their blade in a swift arc of steel.  
She dodged the feign and the real blow, knocking back the grip and step siding her opponent before grasping their arm, knocking the blade to the ground, spinning around them to pin them on their knees, a hidden blade held to their throat to stop any further movement. She just had to hold it for a few seconds...

“You’re using the wrong foot!” 

The new voice shocked her like a current, eyes flitting upwards to see who had spoken. The perfectly timed distraction gave her opponent enough time to flip her around their shoulder, pinning her to the ground with a knee to the chest and a hidden blade poised to strike. Fuming at the loss of her victory, Eleanor rolled her eyes up to see an upside-down Shay sauntering towards her, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You bastard!” Eleanor got to her feet, brushing off the cloud of dirt from her robes and glared at the man. “I had it.”  
He didn’t even try to look sorry for his disturbance as he walked into the practice ring.  
“Ah, but your weight was on the wrong foot.” He nudged the sole of her foot. “She was able to throw you off so easily because your placement was wrong. Use the other foot to distribute the weight evenly.”

“Also because you had become distracted.” Mistress Hope Jensen, the mentor whom she had been sparring with interjected, a heartily displeased look on her face. “The battlefield is filled with distractions and things to stray your focus, you need to prioritize your aim so you don’t end up dead. Or worse, cause the death of one of your brothers.”

Although she wasn’t Eleanor’s mentor, she gave her a more difficult time while evaluating her. They were the only females in their branch of the brotherhood, Eleanor figured, they already had to outperform the male assassins to be noticed, while their mistakes were spotlights for failure. It wasn’t to berate her for no reason, (at least, she hoped not).

“Hope, it was a small mistake, one on my part.” Shay said. “Don’t be so hard on her, it’s just practice.”  
“She’s right,” Eleanor said, scuffing the sole of her boots against the ground. “This time it was practice, next time it may not be. I’ll work on focusing on the enemy. And my foot placement.” She added with a small glance to Shay, who merely smirked in victory. 

“I hope you have a reason for interrupting our sparring session, besides just to pointlessly banter.” Mistress Hope shot at Shay.  
“Actually, yes. Master Achilles was hoping to speak with Ellie, said it was rather urgent. Told him I’d relay the message.”  
“Very well, but keep in mind our session later today.” Mistress Hope said bluntly. “Should you be late, again, I may have to have a conversation with our Master.”  
“As if I could forget with your constant nagging.” Shay rolled his eyes and started to walk away. Eleanor followed after him, trying to avoid the invisible daggers Mistress Hope was throwing at him with her gaze. 

“Your sparring is coming along quite well. I think if I hadn’t distracted you, you would have won that match.” Despite the harsh exchange between him and Hope, he seemed cheerful.  
“I guess.” Eleanor shrugged, trying not to think of all of the errors she had committed during the match. “There is always room for improvement.”  
“Yet all you do is train, one of these days you’re going to pass everyone in skill, even me.” He nudged her shoulder. 

She knew that Shay was trying to get a rise out of her, but her mind was elsewhere, letting his chatter fade away. Why did their Mentor want to meet with her? Had she done something wrong? She knew that her last mission didn’t go exactly according to plan, but there had been some last-minute changes by her target, which had forced her to improvise, had that been the wrong move? Was he going to berate her?

“...Oh, also I’m pregnant with Liam’s child.”  
Eleanor stopped in her tracks, grounding herself again, realizing the absurd things were coming out of Shay’s mouth.  
“What the hell, Shay?”  
His laughter scared a flock of birds out of their nest.  
“Welcome back Ellie, you should have heard some of the stuff I was saying earlier, I think I might have truly scared a novice.”  
“Punk.” Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“But really, what’s got you distracted?” He sobered up as they continued walking down the path, she hadn’t even realized that they were going to the docks.  
“Just wondering why Master Achilles wanted to speak to me?”  
“Probably to expel you from the order and banish you back to New York.”  
Eleanor shoved his shoulder with her own.  
“I’m being serious.”  
“Ellie, you are one of the best assassins in our order, I highly doubt he could even find a flaw in anything you do.” His tone turned, finally being level-headed. “If anything, I think he might want to praise you for taking down such a prominent target last mission. Maybe even promote you.”  
“Stop it, no he wouldn’t.” Eleanor had only been an assassin for eight years, half of which she had been considered a novice. “There are dozens of others that deserve a higher title. I’m still learning.” 

“You need to take yourself seriously, Ellie.” Shay stopped in his tracks. “Liam hasn’t been able to stop talking about your achievements, especially about your latest kill. If he’s gung-ho about them to me, then he most likely is the same as the other Mentors. If anyone deserves a higher title, Hell, if anyone is capable of becoming a Master Assassin so young, it’s you.”  
“Do you really believe that?” Eleanor asked quietly.  
“Absolutely.” His smile was genuine, one that crinkled his eyes and showed off his molars.

Damn her heart for skipping a beat. Although Eleanor had grown over the years, so had her admiration for her fellow Assassin. She had done everything to reign it in, but there were moments like now where it would come back full force. Eleanor might have even dared to call it more than just a crush…

“Then get ready Cormac, because that means that I’d be the one calling the shots.” She smiled back. “You’d have to address me as Ma’am.”  
“I’d rather stick with Ellie.” He stuck out his tongue, looping an arm through hers as they continued walking. 

“Ellie is a chubby eight-year-old girl who loved butterflies more than anything, I haven’t been that girl for a long time. Not exactly the name that strikes fear into the hearts of her enemies.”  
“Neither is Eleanor if I’m honest.”  
She tried to shove him off the path, but he was much bigger than she was, which only caused him to chuckle. “Why do you keep coming around?”

“That’s what friends are for, Ellie.” He playfully pushed her forwards. “Achilles is down by the docks. I’ll catch you at dinner time.”  
“Weren’t you walking me down?” She asked.  
“Honestly, I wasn’t supposed to walk you anywhere. I was just supposed to give you the message, but I wanted to spend time with you. I’m supposed to be training with Kesegowase right now.”  
“Alright goodbye, hope you’re not late because of me.” Eleanor laughed as she waved him off,  
"It will be worth it to spend time with you." He responded with a small smile on his face as he turned around and left for the woods. 

She held back a small groan, turning on her heel and walking down the path, hands pushing her blonde hair out of her face. See, he called her a friend over and over, but then he would do things like that, and it confused her to no end. Was he trying to send mixed messages!  
Eleanor didn’t have time to ponder her Shay problems, their Mentor was waiting for her. 

Achilles was talking lowly to one of the captains of the Assassin’s naval fleet, Eleanor overheard something about transporting cargo to New York before the other man was dismissed, turning towards the girl with a small smile on his face.  
“Good to see you, Eleanor.”  
“You as well, Sir.” She nodded her head, folding her arms behind her back.  
“Walk with me, we have much to discuss.” Eleanor tried not to push her thoughts into overdrive as she fell into step alongside the mentor. 

“How fairs the training?” Achilles asked.  
“Well enough. Liam is helping me with my ranged weapons and Hope has been teaching me new tricks for close quarter combat.”  
“Liam tells me that you are exceeding his expectations, even the other Masters have told me of your progress.”  
“I try my best, but there is always more to learn.”

Achilles chuckled lightly, but the noise set her on edge. Had she said something wrong?  
“Eleanor, there is no need to be so modest. Even our finest assassins have expressed their jealousy of the receptiveness of your skills.”  
“Thank you, Sir, most of that due to those who teach us. If it wasn’t for the Assassins here, I would have died on the streets of New York a long time ago.”  
The man hummed, a small smile on his face.  
“If all of our novices were as thoughtful and modest such as yourself, perhaps there would be a better world.”  
“Perhaps.” She agreed. 

They kept on walking, but the anxiety in Eleanor’s stomach was peaking.  
“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, was there something you needed of me?” Achilles stopped in his tracks, looking out across the bay as if lost in thought. Just as she was cursing herself for being too forward, the Mentor spoke.

“I fear that our world is reaching a turning point. There is a war on the horizon, and not just between the French and the English. The Templar forces are starting to find footing once more, rumors of a new Grandmaster that is starting to change things around. They are becoming more forward and outspoken with their plans, and their support is increasing daily.”  
“That is quite troublesome.” Eleanor agreed, her stomach turning.  
“We could be in trouble should their numbers continue to rise. Which is where I bring you in.”  
“Sir?”

“You know French, do you not?”  
“Yes. My mother and father originally came from Nice but moved to the Colonies shortly after I was born. Although my French is rusty, I am pretty familiar with the customs and culture.” It was something Eleanor had grown up learning from her mother, she taught her and her little brother both English and French, telling wonderful tales of her childhood back in Europe. The thought of simpler times brought a small smile to her face. 

“So you would find little issue with going there for a period of time?”  
“I— No sir, I would not find any issue.” Eleanor stopped herself before she could let her traitorous heart take over. She was being given the opportunity of a lifetime, her personal feelings should have no place at this moment. 

“That is wonderful news.” Achilles smiled. “Your task will be to learn from our Brothers abroad, familiarize yourself with their customs, find financial backing for both of our sects, and eliminate any targets they would deem fit. If you have the time and resources, I would behoove you to look into any Precursor sites or objects that may help our cause.”  
“Of course, sir.”

“Mind you, Eleanor,” Achilles stopped her from leaving. Although she was nearly as tall as he was, he still held authority over her, making her feel like a child again. “I would not give this out to just any of the students here. You were hand-picked out of the dozens of apprentices and assassins. You have proven yourself, and I have very little doubts that you will do great things. Your actions are a reflection on the Brotherhood as a whole.”  
“I won’t let you down sir.” She spoke firmly.  
“I have faith you won’t. You are to embark immediately, I was able to catch the Aquila just before her captain was to leave and ask to hold for you. Pack your belongings and receive your papers from Liam as quickly as you can.”  
“Thank you, Mentor.” Eleanor bowed stiffly, turning to hurry back down the path towards the Homestead. 

There wasn’t much to pack, just her extra clothes, weapons, and stationary. It was almost pitiful how much room was left in her trunk, but that meant it would be easier for her to carry to the docks.  
Eleanor froze mid-fold. Shay didn’t know of her leaving, and he and Kesegowase were in the middle of the woods somewhere.  
“Fuck.” She said softly. It would be rather harsh to just leave with no warning. Digging the stationary out of her trunk, she uncorked an ink bottle and a spare piece of parchment and set out to write a letter to her fellow assassin.

_‘Shay,_  
_It breaks my heart to not be able to tell you this in person, but I am being called away on a voyage to France to aid their Brotherhood. I am not sure of when I shall be returning, but I pray it isn’t too long. I hope that we can still write to each other while I am gone.’_

Eleanor cringed, her words sounded so wooden and rigid, it was like they were mere strangers rather than friends of many years. She shook out her hand before continuing writing;

_‘I will miss you something terribly, please take care of yourself. I hope to see you sooner than later._  
_Your friend always,_  
_Ellie’_

A knock on her door had her turning from the desk, closing the letter with a seal.

“Liam! I was just about to go looking for you.” Eleanor said brightly, glad that he had found her first.  
“Achilles wanted me to help you bring your things down to the docks.” He said, looking around the room. “Where’s the rest of it?”  
“This is it.” She shrugged at the meager pile.  
“That is all you have? Everything inside of your smallest trunk?” He asked.  
“What did you expect? This is more than what I had on the streets.”  
He hummed, bending over to pick up her trunk.

“You may not pack like a lady or act like one, but I’d be damned if I didn’t treat you like one.” He shot down her argument before she could even open her mouth.  
“Funny, you never treated me like a lady when my monthly bleeding would incapacitate me for several days. You told me to tough it out.” She grabbed her cloak from the door and slung it around her shoulders.  
“I never thought that the bleeding would cause you to faint.” He chuckled as he slung the trunk over his shoulder, gesturing with his arm to lead the way. 

The walk down to the docks was quick and quiet. Most of the other Assassins were still off training or finishing their chores. While it made her sad that she was leaving with very little fanfare, she did not dwell on it. Not every mission needed to be a huge deal, and her's was no different.

The _Aquila_ was a mighty ship, a hustle of busy sailors hard at work to get the ship ready to sail. Eleanor gulped. She had never even set foot on a ship before, (at least in her memory), and she was quite nervous about this newest mission. Hopefully, she didn’t make a fool of herself by vomiting up the anxieties in her belly. 

Liam passed off her trunk to a sailor.  
“Did Achilles give you a timeframe for how long you were to be gone?”  
“No, but judging by his tone, this isn’t going to be a fast mission,” Eleanor said nodding. “Maybe six months? Perhaps a year or longer, if they need.”  
“And you’re ready to just drop your life just to comply with orders?”  
“Yes. It is my duty to the Brotherhood, as it should be with anyone else.”  
“Thatta girl!” Liam exclaimed as he clapped her on the shoulder. 

Eleanor did have an affectionate family, plenty of love and hugs to go around, but since being on the streets didn’t give her the same kind of care, she had grown more distant to people. Affection was only for those she truly trusted, and that number had been a minimum of two people. She would not go as far as to say it had turned her cold to any display of affection, but she always had that distance. Even as an Assassin, she had grown accustomed to the shoulder pats and occasional hugs when a mission had turned wrong. The only people that she felt comfortable enough around to let that guard down was Liam and Shay…

“Liam,” Eleanor got his attention as he pulled away. “Could I ask a favor?”  
“Of course lass, whatever you need?”  
“This is for Shay, he wasn’t around when I got the news and I don't want to leave him wondering. Could you give this to him?”  
A strange look went across Liam’s face, but he had his usual passive face back before she could question it.  
“Of course. I’ll let him know.” He took the letter from her hand and placed it in his pocket. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached back into his coat, pulling out a large square box, handing it to her. Judging by the weight and size of it, her mentor hadn’t forgotten, just playing the dramatics. “Master Achilles wanted you to have these.”  
Eleanor carefully balanced it on one arm, prying the lid open.

“You’re kidding me.”  
Inside the box sat a pair of brand new hidden blades. The blades were sharp and gleamed silver in the sunlight, black leather stitched with a silver string made the bracers look sleek and deadly. The insignia stood out against the dark leather backing, along with the letters E, M, and J.  
“How did you know out my middle name?” Eleanor asked in awe, still marveling the newest weapon.  
“Achilles knows everything.”  
“He wouldn’t have had time to make them for this trip,” Eleanor said suspicious, quirking an eyebrow at him. Liam merely shrugged with a laugh.  
“The Mentor may have been planning to give these to you regardless of the mission or not. He believes that you’re ready for the next step.”   
Her eyes widened. “You don’t mean...”

“Eleanor Marie James, you are now a Master Assassin. You have followed all tenants of our Creed with dignity and honor. You deserve to wear this title, and do so proudly.” Liam said a big smile on his face. “Achilles will be sending word of your promotion by nightfall, the French should have your robes ready by the time you reach Paris—”  
Whatever else he had planned on saying was cut off by her arms thrown around his shoulders.  
“Thank you! I cannot tell you what this means to me.” 

Her, now former, mentor chuckled as he hugged back.  
“There are very few here that deserves the title as much as you. You've earned it lass.”  
“I won’t let you down.” She pulled back, holding the box close to her chest. “I swear it.”  
“Just promise you’ll write and that should be enough for me.” He spoke softly.  
“Of course I’ll write. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t write?”  
Again, a strange look went over his face before he schooled it back.  
“Of course.” 

A whistle and a bell rang in the air.  
“I think that’s for me.” Eleanor said, suddenly eager to put distance between her and her mentor.  
“Right. Safe travels.” Liam took a step back, allowing her to board the Aquila unaccompanied.  
As the men were raising the ramp, she turned around and waved at Liam. She could see him chuckling, waving back to her, turning around to walk back to the Homestead. 

At that moment, with the sun beaming down and the birds crying out above, she forgot about her worries of being on a ship or even what the boys back at the Homestead thought of her. At that moment, she felt completely and utterly blissful. The future was still shrouded in darkness, but for a second, she had a flicker of hope bright enough to light her way.


	3. Chapter 3

**New York, 1759**

The call of the seagulls was the first sound that clued her in about her arrival. Eleanor’s boots were dull thuds against the wood of the old ship, creaking as she walked up the stairs and above deck. The sun still was hidden behind the clouds and the air stung like a slap, but now there were small dots moving against the sky. For the first time in weeks, she smiled.  
Birds meant land, and land meant that she was nearly back in the Colonies. Five years since she had left the Homestead. She had been so full of hope then, that this journey would be insightful and short. How foolish she had been.

“You’ll be standing there for a few hours, Lass. Captain says we may not make it until sunset.” A sailor said as he paused, shaking his head at her. Yet Eleanor ignored him, she was so antsy to get back onto dry land, it was agonizing to be so close. She played with the buckle on her bracer, trying to distract her mind for a bit. 

What could have been such an emergency that she was needed back in New York? According to their communications, there had been several ups and downs since her leaving, but they were currently back on the rise again. Yet she had been sought out as she was gaining intelligence against a sect of Templars in Paris, a frantic letter sent by her former mentor requesting (no, demanding) that she return to New York as soon as she was able. Though the letter had been brief, she had expected there to be some sort of explanation of why it was prudent that she returned on such short notice, but not even the French brotherhood knew why. She had spent the last six weeks agonizing over the many possible reasons why. The ship travel didn’t sit well with her, but the constant headaches and stomach aches that plagued her were nearly debilitating. The sooner she had the ground beneath her feet the better.

Fortunately, they arrived earlier than sunset, the sun just beginning its long descent as they tied off in the port. She pulled her hood into place, launching off the side of the ship and landing with a small oomph on the dock below, ignoring the scandalized gasps at her behavior. She glanced around for a moment before standing up and walking down the docks. 

The moment her feet hit the cobblestone she was approached by a boy in an orange uniform. He looked far younger than what was deemed normal for Assassins to recruit, but maybe this boy showed promise? Otherwise, she would be having a long conversation with the Den leader as to why he was accepting children who had not yet reached puberty. 

“How was your trip Mistress Eleanor?” At least the novice had the decency to make conversation before delivering his request.  
“Long. What is the news?”  
“Master Achilles is calling for a meeting with the others, about the…situations with the other mentors.”  
“I thought those were related to the war?” Eleanor asked, but he only shrugged. Of course, they wouldn’t tell the novices anything, which was worrisome as much as it was a nuisance. Turns out that serving in the dark was literal.  
The initiate offered to take her luggage to a carriage, then to the inn where she would rest up before making the trip back to the Homestead. She flicked a coin in their direction to show her thanks. 

She started walking the streets, looking at a scrap of parchment with coordinates scrawled on. The paper said to meet at sundown on this date, but she could only hope that she was not late. After waiting for a lull in the crowd, she ran towards a pulley system, kicking the lever, and gripped the rope tightly as she was yanked upwards. Landing lightly on her feet, she took off running across the rooftops. The glee in her chest as she took the first leap across the rooftops in weeks was near bursting, only her extensive training stopping her from whooping loud enough for all of New York to hear.  
Thankfully, she spotted the four mentors, waiting under a pavilion just off the road, shifting anxiously as they waited. Worry pinched her eyebrows. Eleanor had never seen them as much as worried, so to see the strongest men and woman looking timid and nervous hit like a ton of bricks. What on Earth could possibly make them like this? 

“Good of you to finally join us.” Chevalier grumbled as she strolled up to them, picking the stray straw from her robes. Eleanor rolled her eyes. A bitter and constantly cross man who treated her like a bumbling novice no matter how many times she had proven herself, Chevalier was not a pleasant man to be around.  
“The ship docked late.” She tried to keep her voice even, the fatigue of traveling causing her to be shorter than usual. “What is the news? I only received a frantic pigeon, telling me to return as soon as possible.” 

“We are being hunted.” Master Achilles spoke softly, eyes scanning the streets as if their attacker would spring up at any moment. “I received news of Kesegowaase passing several weeks ago, around the time of your summons, but news came in only last night of Adewale’s death. I fear it is not a coincidence.”  
“What?” She balked. Kesegowase was a just but stern man, his death was oddly timed with the loss of a Fort the Assassins had taken years ago. Now the death of the Legend of the Caribbean? It was too awful to be true. “By whom? Then who would have a vendetta against us?” Eleanor asked.  
The silence that followed was tense, Hope and Liam shared a look, silently battling before Liam sighed. 

“We believe that Shay Cormac is behind this.”

“Shay?” Eleanor spoke numbly, feeling her face drain of color. “Shay Cormac? Our Shay?”  
“We have reached the conclusion that he has completely defected, now among the Templar rank.” Achilles spoke once more, a hardened edge in his voice. “Our informants have seen him with the late Colonel Monro, even the Grand Master himself.” 

It hit her like a punch to the abdomen, stealing all breath in one blow.  
Not Shay.  
Not the man who smiled like the sun and was endlessly patient with everyone even when it wasn’t his strong suit and always had her back, even when the two had their differences. The same man she had grown to care for now not only worked for the enemy but was responsible for the deaths of the mentors that she had looked up to.   
Yet that wasn’t the only reason for her reaction.

Eleanor glared to Liam, only Hope's quick reflexes stopped her from getting in his face.  
“You said he fell off a cliff. That he had drowned in the bay!”  
Her former mentor was surprisingly quiet, refusing to make eye contact with her. Liam had sent her a brief message over a year ago, giving a vague and short message about the death of her dear friend, about him falling to his death after a fight. They hadn’t been there for the fallout of her reaction, but the others in the Assassin Den thought that she was being harmed from the way she screamed and cried.

“Aye, it seems he didn’t perish as we had thought.” The man said curtly.  
“And what of the Manuscript?” The damned thing had been missing for some time now, seemingly lost to the Atlantic when Shay had taken his dive.  
“Up until recently, it was in the Templar's hands, but now it is back safe and sound.” Achilles stated plainly. “Tell us what you learned from your trip, Eleanor.” 

Talk about getting straight to business. Not even a moment for her to process that her dearest friend was now the enemy. She clenched and unclenched her hands, the leather of her new gloves creaking as she spoke.

“The Templar influence has decreased over the years. We have been able to take down most of the prominent leaders in Spain and France. I was able to confirm the newest Grandmaster for the French before I left, a man named Monsieur de la Serre. Finances are tight with the French, as they are funding the war efforts over here. Neither the French nor the Spanish cells know of Precursor sites in their borders. I’ve even visited the ruins of Lisbon, but nothing gave away a clue of where the next site might be.”  
Eleanor didn’t want to criticize her the Master Assassins, but it had felt like a wild goose chase. The only thing gleaned out of the trip was what awful shape the city had been. She couldn’t imagine how it must have been when the earth had moved so horrifically.

“That is alright, with the Manuscript now, we have almost everything we need for finding the next one.” Achilles reassured.  
“But it’s hard to gather ships and supplies when we do not have a specific destination.” Chevalier spoke up, frustration heavy in every syllable.  
“My men can help,” Hope said. “I have enough to spare for a crew as well.”  
“Hope has found a way to…replicate Master Franklin’s experiment.” Liam paused briefly, looking between Hope and Master Achilles. “It should help uncover the next site.”  
“You’re confident you can do this?” Achilles asked.

Hope slid off the boxes to size up to Achilles. She hated being doubted, especially by Achilles, the air around them became tense.  
“I am a keen observer, Mentor, the device will be ready shortly.”  
“Keep me appraised.” He dismissed her, watching as she walked off. “I will see you back at the Homestead soon Eleanor?”

“Yes sir, but shouldn’t we discuss the issue at hand?” Eleanor knew of his skill, even if the other Master Assassins overlooked him. If Shay could take down two of the best Master Assassins, he could easily eradicate their entire order if that was his plan. 

“We have measures in place for this. You need not worry for any of us or yourself, we trained you to be able to defend yourself.” Achilles waved her off gently, walking away before she could argue.  
Chevalier walked off in the opposite direction, grumbling something about a ship needing to be prepared, leaving Liam and Eleanor alone under the pavilion, quiet enough to hear the hustle and bustle of the streets. 

“Why did you lie to me?” Eleanor asked.  
“I didn’t lie, I didn’t know.” He was quick to defend himself, shaking his head.  
Eleanor sighed in frustration, knowing that was all she was going to get out of the man, yet she was still reeling from all that was thrown at her in a span of ten minutes. She needed a drink. Or five.

“Ellie,” A hand on her arm stopped her from moving, Liam stepping in closer that was usually professional. “You need to be careful, now more than ever.”  
“I know.” She tried to shake his grip.  
“No, you don’t.” He growled. “I saw the bodies of the other master assassins, of the countless assassins that he’s murdered in cold blood. It’s fucking awful. It doesn’t matter what history you have, he will kill us all without hesitation.”  
“He’s still Shay.” Eleanor insisted. “He wouldn’t do this without a reason.”  
“His reasons are that he wants us all dead. There’s no way to spin that so it looks favorable.” Liam’s grip tightened unconsciously. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She held back a tired sigh. “Liam, I’m not a child and I’m definitely not helpless. You trained me yourself, remember? I can defend myself.” She flexed her wrists, the blade sliding out of her bracer, the same ones he had gifted her all those years ago, more worn and used, but still just as effective.  
“But are you willing to make the difficult choice?” He asked severely. “If it comes down to it, and it’s just you and him, are you willing to stake a blade through his chest? Kill him and make sure he doesn’t come back?”

“How could you ask that!” She finally yanked her arm out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing to stare at him incredulously. Despite the anger and hatred that might be running through them at his actions, Shay was not a rabid dog to be put out of its misery, he was a human with logical reasons and a heart. But had she said that, Liam would have sent her back to the Homestead as soon as possible and kept her as far away as possible.  
Liam sighed angrily, raising his hands to show his frustration. “He’s a Templar. He took an oath that defies everything that we believe in, to stop us no matter the cost. He won’t spare you just because you have disillusioned yourself that you are in love with him.” 

The smack echoed in the empty pavilion. Liam held his cheek in his palm, a quiet rage flaring in his eyes, but he didn’t move to grab her again.  
Eleanor took a step back, more of a precaution so she wouldn’t lash out again. “You may have been my mentor, but I do not need your damn criticisms anymore. I did not become a Master Assassin because I cannot do my job. At the end of the day, I will do what is right.” Eleanor spun on her heel, storming out of the area before he could accuse her of something else just as ridiculous. 

Eleanor could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface, making her way towards her inn, praying that there was a tavern nearby for her to get piss-faced drunk. She didn’t often turn to drink to unleash her frustrations, but perhaps it would clear her head if only for a moment. 

She did _not_ harbor feelings for Shay anymore. Not after he ignored letter after letter that she had sent. Eleanor had foolishly hoped that he was just busy and couldn’t make time to keep up with the letters she sent, but even as she decreased the amount of mail sent after that first year, she still received no response. When she had expressed her concerns to Liam, he had told her that he was occupied with his duties and that she should follow suit. After the hurt had subsided, she resigned herself to writing one letter a year to all of the mentors, praying that they would let Shay know that she still cared. The only person she was in decent contact with was Achilles’ annual reports and Liam’s bi-monthly letters asking her of her progress and checking in on her well being. That of course had changed when she heard about his death when she only heard from them to summon her. 

The evening sky was starting to dim into nighttime and people starting to retreat indoors, either their quiet homes or into the bustling taverns and inns. She could see the inn where her belongings were, the sounds of music and laughter floating through the air. The cheery atmosphere would be a good influence on her sour mood. Some ale and food to replenish, maybe even dancing if she had enough to drink and the feeling struck.

A harsh grip on her elbow changed that idea rather quickly. 

Eleanor made to protest, to shove whoever had grabbed her, but the other hand grabbed the back of her neck, pulling down the hood in the process. The vice-like grip went from her elbow to her wrist, twisting her arm until it was behind her back, awkwardly bent to where she couldn’t get loose yet the person had complete control of her direction. Eleanor cursed her sixth sense, failing to notify her of the person who must have been following for quite some time, maybe even since she had left the meeting with the Mentors. Her attempts to break free and look at who had taken her by surprise were halted by something against her spine, sharp enough to have Eleanor gasping in surprise. She tried to calm down and assess her attacker without sight as she was turned around and walked the way she had just been.

They were most likely a male, large gloved hands and long legs that moved much faster than she was used to. They knew how to wield their weapon, an unwavering grip and pressure of their blade that wasn’t too much to break the skin but enough to remind that it was there. It wasn’t the only weapon they had, judging by the clink of metal against metal. They knew the city quite well, directing her towards a desolate alley, (which were almost non-existent in this town), with confidence. They knew how to get her alone and off the street quickly, so she figured they were readying to interrogate her. 

Yet there might have been a chance that they didn’t know who she was, only wearing one of her hidden blades while traveling, and they were griping the non-bladed arm. Her Master Assassin robes were in her trunk back at the inn, not wanting to get salt in the fabric. The stranger probably thought she was a lowly assassin at most, maybe she could pull a tricky maneuver to change the stakes. 

Just as they were slowing down, ready to switch their grip again, Eleanor struck. Striking an elbow into their neck to push them off-center, her kidnapper grunted in surprise, giving her time to twist their arm back and kick the soft spot of their knees. They fell with an oomph, landing on one leg. She whipped her hidden blade around to their exposed neck, pressed tightly against their jugular. 

“Why are you following me?” Eleanor demanded, feeling a bit high on the adrenaline and pride for subduing a larger target with relative ease. Her time overseas gave her lots of opportunities to grow stronger both physically and mentally. This man had chosen the wrong Assassin to mess with. Yet the stranger merely chuckled, his chest rumbling with the noise.   
“You’re using the wrong foot.” 

Her head tilted. The voice was eerily familiar, the accent heavy and deep. But before she could ponder where she had heard it, her world tilted on its axis, thrown over her opponent's shoulder. The breath was knocked from her, stunning her momentarily. It only took her a second to reorient herself, to try to roll out of the way of his next attack, but the small pause was enough for her kidnapper to roll her on her back and pin her beneath his weight, one hand wrestling both of her wrists above her head, finger jammed in to stop her hidden blade from disengaging, and a sharp blade now at her throat. Dark and very familiar eyes bore into hers, killing any fight that she had left in her.

Shay Cormac had her pinned down in an abandoned alleyway with a blade to her neck. 

Had this been before, Eleanor would have thrown a snarky retort his way and shoved him off. But seeing him dressed in the Templar cross and knowing what she did now, she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, her stomach clenching in terror. 

“You’ve been making that mistake for five years, lass. You’d think a Master Assassin would have fixed that by now.” He had the audacity to chuckle at her misfortune as if this was just a sparring match between friends.  
Despite the fear, she drank in his appearance like a woman dying of thirst. His hair was longer now, tied back neatly out of his freshly shaven face, only marred by a thin scar over his right eye. He looked much older than when she had last seen him five years ago, whether that was the new look or everything that had happened, she couldn’t tell. He wore a smug grin, slowly sheathing the blade and moving off of her.

Eleanor ignored his hand to help her up away, taking several steps back from him, glancing between him and the entrance to the alley. Shay wasn’t blocking her exit completely, but he was close enough to grab her if she decided to run, and there weren’t any convenient places to haul herself up to the roofs.  
His smile fell as he took in her appearance, coiled, and wound up like a loaded spring. 

“I know you probably have questions—”  
“What the hell!” Eleanor had just enough sense to not scream at him, but she was no less furious. “I was told that you died, a-and now you’re with the Templars? What happened?” 

He held his hands in front of him, trying to calm her down from afar. “Did you get my letter after Lisbon?”  
“What are you talking about?” Eleanor asked bitterly. “I haven’t heard from you in five years! No letters, no form of communication whatsoever.”  
“What?” Shay's eyebrows shot up before furrowing together, his stance widening as he raised his arms. “Wait, if anyone should be complaining about the lack of communication, it should be me! You left without a single word, I had to find out from Liam that you had left for Europe. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”  
“I had to leave Shay! I couldn’t disobey a direct order from Achilles, and the ship was waiting for me. I’m sorry for following what my mentor tells me to do.”

“A perfect student through and through.” Shay muttered darkly, shaking his head as if he had any right to be disappointed in her.  
“Excuse me for actually listening to someone other than myself.” Eleanor crossed her arms. “And stop avoiding my question.”  
“You heard of the Earthquake in Lisbon?”  
“Yes. I visited the site just last year to help the Assassins rebuild the city. It was like something out of a nightmare.”  
“It wasn’t just an earthquake.” Shay’s shoulders sagged. “I was sent to the Precursor site that was hidden there to collect the artifact. The moment my hand touched it, it disintegrated, and the Earth tore itself apart. I barely got out alive, and thousands of people died because of me.”

“Shay.” Eleanor’s heart broke at his story, her anger dimming at the hurt on his face. “That wasn’t just you. Accidents happen.”  
“Achilles knew it would happen.” The anger burned in his eyes like coals on a fire. “The same had happened in Haiti years ago, yet he still sent me in.”  
“He couldn’t have known that it was connected.” Eleanor defended. “There was no way to know that it would happen again.”

“I told him. I begged him to listen and he forced me from the Homestead. He wouldn’t respond to reason so I took matters into my own hands.”  
“By joining the Templars?” Eleanor couldn’t keep the distrust out of her voice, eyeing his outfit and weapons.  
“Look,” Shay sighed as if the weight of the world suddenly fell upon his shoulders. “I won’t try to debate the choices I’ve made. Everything I have done was to stop what happened in Lisbon from happening anywhere else. I wasn’t looking to rub elbows with the enemy, but I found they want to protect the sites from the populace while the Assassin’s are focusing on weaponizing them, so yeah, I threw in with them. I don’t hate the Assassins, but you are being used.”

“I am not being manipulated.” She snapped.  
“Achilles lost his family and is blinded by his grief, the other Master Assassins are too caught up in their pride to notice.” His shoulders drooped. “I thought you would understand.”  
“Is that why you drug me into an alley and held a knife to my throat?”  
“To be fair, you held one to mine first.” He handled the withering look she sent his way with grace. “I had to take precautions, the Templars wouldn’t like that I’m meeting with you, and I doubt the Assassins would even hear me out if they knew.” 

“Because you’re supposed to kill us, right?”  
Shay paused. At least he had the decency to look guilty about his crimes.  
“I heard about Kesegowaase and Adewale. I know that you’re trying to remove us one by one. Hell, I’m surprised that you waited this long to try to kill me.” She chuckled mirthlessly. She hadn’t expected him to drag their conversation out this long, he should have slit her throat when he had the chance.

Shay sighed as his face fell into a frown.  
“Ellie, I’m not here to kill you. I only want the others to see reason. I’ve only put a stop to those who are connected with the Precursor sites and who won’t see what they are doing is wrong.”  
“What do you think I’ve spent the past five years doing?” Eleanor threw her hands in the air, frustration mounting again. “Achilles has been utilizing every one of us to work on these sites in one form or another. You’d have to eradicate the whole Assassin order to stop them.”  
“If that’s what it takes.” The way he said that sent a chill down her spine. For the first time since she first met him all those years ago, Eleanor was terrified of him.

“So, you would kill all of us then? Achilles? Hope? Liam? Even me?” She hated that her voice cracked at the end, clenching her fists and staring a hole through the ground to avoid his eyes. She didn’t want to see his face when he killed her. It would have hurt more than the killing blow.  
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ellie,” He spoke softly, gentle in a way that she did not remember hearing before. She hadn’t noticed that he nearly closed the gap between them, just an arm's length away. “I’m not here to try to convert you, nor am I here to send a message with blood.”

“Then why?” Eleanor asked so soft, almost a whisper between the two of them.  
“I just wanted to be selfish for once.” 

His hand reached out to touch her, the leather gloves smooth and cool to the touch, holding her face, gentle in a way that made Eleanor feel like she might break had he been too rough. It took every ounce of training to not lean in and give any leeway, even if every atom in her body began singing with excitement. All the years of resentment and anger were washed away at that moment. Even if it wasn’t how she wanted it, Shay still cared for her.

He stepped back with a sigh when she didn’t move, not even looking him in the eye.  
“I’m sorry Eleanor. But I must do this.” His hand pulled away and she _almost_ sighed at it's loss.

Every step he took towards the entrance fractured her heart, aching for his presence once more, for his attention, for the care he could give if only she would abandon everything she knew and believed in and followed him. She knew this might be the last time she saw him, at least, the last time she would be allowed to be passive. Next time he would kill her, and she was unsure if she would even protest when he did. As his back turned, she wiped her eyes to hide the traitorous tears that had welled up.

He paused at the mouth of the street, turning back to her to give her one of those smiles that she loved, though this one was forlorn.  
“All I can leave you with is this; are proud of what you are doing?”  
And, in the flicker of a shadow, Shay Cormac vanished into the night. 

Eleanor slunk into the shadow of the alley, using the wall as a crutch as she slid to her knees, forcing herself to keep the weeping as silent as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Y'all!!!

**North Atlantic, 1760**

The last place Eleanor wanted to be was on the deck of _Le Gerfaut_, in the middle of the winter in the coldest place on Earth. Her only companion was a man who made her want to pitch herself into the icy waters below. Yet orders were orders, and she was nothing if not obedient. 

After the fall of New York and the death of Hope, Achilles and the other mentors became desperate in their attempts to stop the Templars, who were flourishing with their downfall. Suicide missions, secrecy between mentors and students, and hidden motives that lead to entire dens being slaughter, the Assassins were becoming a dying breed. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't hear the news of one their own being killed or forced into submission, it was becoming harder and harder to bear. Achilles had Eleanor moved from the Homestead several weeks ago with orders to follow the _Gerfaut's_ captain Chevalier to sea along with a decent-sized fleet. The older man wouldn’t tell her why he had picked her of their remaining numbers, nor would he give what their mission was.

Eleanor wrapped the thick shawl around her shoulders in a desperate attempt to block out the cold. Why they were sitting here in the dense fog freezing their asses off was a mystery, even the crew was muttering among themselves, trying to keep warm and fulfill their duties without becoming frostbitten. It was known among the Assassins that Chevalier was a prideful man, but she never expected him to be petty and cruel to those working beneath him. When she had confronted him about this several hours ago, Chevalier merely shrugged and said that we were waiting.

“Waiting for his balls to drop more like.” She whispered to herself, chuckling softly like a madwoman. Then again, she supposed with all that was on her mind and watching her Brothers drop like flies, it would be fair if she lost all sense of reason now. Shaking her head, she started to pace back and forth, trying to keep the blood flowing to her feet.

That damned question Shay had asked months ago plagued her, growing unbearably louder and impossible to ignore. Everyone Eleanor knew was following the Creed, failure to do so lead to banishment or worse, as Shay should know. He had killed thousands of innocents in Lisbon due to his carelessness with the Precursor sites, and the Creed forbade anyone from hurting those who were not involved in the order. His actions had caused so much destruction, that was ultimately why he had been banished…right? The Masters never really told her why he had been banished, even though she had asked several times. It wasn’t her business. Eleanor had told herself that it was alright if she didn’t know everything, that the Masters had the right to withhold information from her if it might compromise the mission. Doing what was right was more important than being right. 

But then again, Shay had never been one to lie or exaggerate. Many of the other Assassins she had worked with would occasionally bend the truth to make themselves seem more impressive or like their mission was more difficult than it had been. It was a big comparison game that nearly everyone took part in. Yet Shay had never done that, even as a young man, so why would he lie about Achilles sending him in, knowing full well that innocents would die? That he was ignored about the dangers of the Precursors and was nearly killed trying to do the right thing? 

Shay still had no reason to lie to her, even if he was a Templar. He told her in the alleyway that he wasn’t trying to convert others to the Order or to kill each other just because they were sworn enemies, and his actions had proven that by letting her walk away. What if his point of view was more honest than those in charge that had said? What if Shay was right?

“Oh God.” Eleanor muttered to the frigid air, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.  
It would explain the franticness of the Master Assassins, their desperation to find the next site before the Templars did, possibly to weaponize it against the enemy, against the only person who knew what the sites could do and had the ability to stop them. Chevalier, Achilles, even Liam were trying to keep the truth from coming out, putting more innocents at risk. They were acting no better than those they claimed to be enemies with, and they were breaking the Creed by doing so.

So where did that leave her?

The snow was picking up now, making it hard to see too far in front of the bow. She was just turning to return below, where she had set her private quarters when there was a faint thundering sound. She glanced around, flashes of orange light glowed off in the distance, steadily growing louder.  
Cannon fire.

Eleanor spun around and headed up the stairs to the top of the deck, where Chevalier was clenching the wheel with an odd gleam in his eyes. “Chevalier, what is going on? Are we being attacked?”  
“He’s walked straight into my trap.” He said lowly.  
“Who is?” She already knew the answer, heartbeat picking up in anticipation.  
“The cabbage farmer, tonight we shall put him and his _merde_ ship to a watery grave.  
“Is that why we’re hiding like cowards? To settle some petty score?” She demanded. “Why not face him like the man you claim to be?”  
His narrowed eyes shifted towards her. “No, we’re hiding so he’ll never see our mortar fire coming. The fleet is merely a diversion to waste their supplies.” 

Her jaw dropped. “You’re putting innocent people in the way of your fight!”  
The men on those ships were not assassins, hell, some of them weren’t experienced sailors. They were simple men, some of whom were barely old enough to be considered so pulled off the street by the promise of good coin and a place to rest their heads for several weeks. They never asked to be a part of this secret war, let alone die because of a petty man who needed to be victorious no matter the cost.  
“They knew what they signed up for. If they do their jobs correctly, then no one will have to die.”  
“You can’t guarantee that. We have to help them.” Even as she was speaking, she noticed the air grow quieter and quieter, the cannon fire becoming more dispersed and scattered. “Now!”

“Know your place, child! You may be a Master Assassin, but you have no right to demand anything on my ship.” Chevalier snapped, Eleanor took a step back from him, afraid of him lashing out.  
“Then why am I here? I’m not a sailor nor a battle tactician, I am little use to you. Why bring me out here?”  
“_Appât du gain._” Chevalier said sinisterly.  
Taking a moment to translate, she couldn’t help the swoop of her stomach, her face paling to match the falling snow. 

She was bait.

Just as Eleanor was about to act, to do something to prevent her from becoming the damsel in distress, hands gripped her arms, holding her still. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see their bright orange coats like the cannon fire, the assassin’s colors. She tugged, but they held fast, unblinking at her struggle.  
“Did you think we were oblivious to your meeting in the alleyway? That you would be swayed by your feelings for the traitor?” Chevalier asked venomously.  
“That wasn’t—“ A sharp blow to the stomach sent her to her knees, arms pinned behind her back. Chevalier shook his head when Eleanor spat, glaring up at him with as much fire in her eyes as she could muster.  
“I knew it was a bad idea to trust you, especially with how close you were with the boy. But Master Achilles told me to be patient, that you would prove yourself worthy. I’m not sure if he will approve of my methods here, but after I kill Cormac and blame your death on him, I sure he will understand that the ends justify the means.” 

“Get the fuck off of me!” Eleanor wanted to rush him, to drive her blades through the shriveled up muscle in his chest he called a heart. She had known that the man was unlikable, but she had never imagined him so vile. Had he ever trusted her? Had any of the Master Assassins trusted her? Was she just a way to make ends meet, readily tossed aside once she had served her purpose.

“Put her down below. We’ll see who will have her first, the traitor, or the sea.” He waved them off, dismissing Eleanor to her fate.  
If Eleanor was anything, it wasn't passive or quiet, and she refused to go without causing a ruckus. She kicked and screamed as they pulled her away from the Captain. The crew members cast worried glances her way as the men wrestled her into submission, oblivious to the truth of the drama.  
“Don’t worry, she is just stubborn about going below, you know how women are.” Chevalier told them in a scornful voice. If the crew had any more complaints against her treatment, they didn’t voice them aloud, going back to work as she was unceremoniously dragged below deck. 

Eleanor was chained to a latch in the cargo hold like a prisoner, stopping her from walking more than a few steps away from the wall.  
“Please, don’t do this.” She begged to her brothers in arms, yanking on the cuffs. They ignored her, closing and locking the door behind them.  
“Cowards! I hope you sink to the bottom of the sea! I hope that you get the ending you deserve! I hope that you choke as you die, you bastards!” Her insults were drowned by the sound of the battle bell and Chevalier shouting to prepare the mortars erupted above. 

_‘There has to be a way out.’_  
Her brain was firing a hundred ideas a minute. The chain and the latch were brand new (almost as if they were placed just for this situation), the wood too strong to break free without constant working that she didn’t have the time for. Her weapons were useless in this situation, and she was too far from any sympathetic ears that would have helped. The door locked from the outside, one of the men probably had a key, but how she would acquire it was a whole different plan if she could even break free. Eleanor screamed at the top of her lungs, tugging at the bindings uselessly as the mortars fired off. 

_Le Gerfaut_ was a monster of a ship, giant in size and number of men working aboard, and with the crazed assassin sailing the ship Shay and his crew would have been like a toy boat in comparison, he stood no chance against the revenge-driven man. Eleanor knew that both men would rather go down in a blaze of glory than admit defeat. She was on her own if she had any chance of survival. One step at a time, first she had to get out of these chains. Eleanor rocked back and forth on her feet, letting gravity pull her until she was almost laying on the ground, the groan of the metal straining against wood giving her hope as she worked.

She continued to do this, slowly but surely the wood was bending with the constant pressure. Cannon fire and explosions now constantly filled the air, muffled by the interior of the ship, but it was growing louder, and she could have sworn that a couple actually hit their marks, sending shudders through the boat. The sound of splintering wood was Eleanor’s only warning as the world around her exploded, bits of the wood and steel flying all around. It was a true miracle that the cannonball didn’t hit her, only leaving her winded from fear. The fire from the explosion was quickly extinguished by icy arctic water rushing in. 

“Shit!” Eleanor cried out, yanking more aggressively now. The twinge in her wrists transitioned from uncomfortable to painful as she frantically pulled. The wood groaned but still was no closer to breaking. The sound of destruction was louder than before, things from the deck cracking and falling over from the relentless cannon fire, hole forming above her head to expose the grey sky. Water now brushed her boots, steadily growing higher by the moment. 

The sound of thundering footfall above her head had her pausing. Not only did Shay’s crew live through the assault, but they were successful in incapacitating Chevalier’s ship. Eleanor dared to tease the hope flaring in her chest, pulling harder than ever as the seawater now brushed her knees.  
The wood whined, whether from her attempts or from the constant battering from the battle, but the latch loosened on one side, her wrists throbbing in agony as Eleanor yanked until it was finally, _finally,_ tugged free of it’s holding and clattered into the water. The sudden change in weight sent her stumbling back, water drenching her like an icy blanket. 

Eleanor clenched her teeth shut to stop the chattering, now facing the next predicament of the locked door. There was no way that there was a person idly sitting outside while a battle was happening and she wasn't strong enough to break it down. Perhaps she could try to climb up and crawl out of one of the holes from the cannon fire, she could gather enough of the supplies in the room to make a solid surface for her to stand on. Although her chain was decently long, it made gathering the boxes together more difficult, her cold fingers having trouble gripping the debris. Her chest heaved as the water clung to her waist.

“So you think you can best me, boy?” Chevalier’s voice carried over the freezing air like a bullet, the sound of metal crashing against metal nearly drowned him out. “I’ve been practicing my aim, I’ll get a bullseye this time!”  
_'Do not focus on him.'_ She continued to focus on climbing, pulling herself out of the water and onto the fallen just enough to look above deck. Wooden beams, ropes, and tattered sails were scattered all around, men either fighting or dying in a pool of their own blood. Craning her neck, she glimpsed a familiar figure finishing off an assassin, his blade work and dark coat giving her a clue to who it was.

“Shay!” Eleanor screamed, her hands trying to pry the wooden planks back so she could escape.  
By some miracle he heard her, whipping his head back and forth at the sound of her voice. “Shay! Over here, down here!”  
He finally looked down, realization dawning on his face as he rushed over, bending down beside the hole in the floorboards.

“Ellie? What in Christ’s name are you doing here?” He sounded winded, eyes sweeping back and forth to assess the situation, widening in realization when he saw the churning dark water steadily rising. “Hold tight, I'll get you out.”  
His arm bent back, the hidden blade gleaming in the sunlight as he plowed through the wood, again and again, minding where her hands were, widening the hole until she could have stuck her head completely out like a groundhog.

“Look out!” She barely had enough time to shout, a blade swinging down to meet him. Even with his sixth sense and her warning, Shay had to roll away to avoid the attack, it gave her a clear shot of Chevalier, eyes ablaze with fury as he struck down with his sword.   
“You have gone soft Shay!” He spat. “We trained you better than this. You never let yourself become vulnerable in a fight, especially not to help a prisoner.”  
“Prisoner?” Shay asked bitterly as he parried off of the Assassin. “Strange word for one of your own.”  
“She was corrupted by you!” He lunged again, Shay barely dodging out of the way. “It was bad enough that you let emotions get in the way of your work, but now you’ve spread your ideology like a poison, and it will lead us all to our doom!” The French captain spun around for another attack, but Shay dodged out of the way, away from the hole entirely. 

“Damn it!” She swore, punching at the wood until it yielded, allowing enough room for her to shimmy out of the hole, ignoring the scrapes on her arms and shoulders. A man saw her emerge and charged. She took this in stride, jumping past his lunge and taking a hold on his arm. A quick twist of his thumb and he screeched and dropped his sword, using her foot to swing it up so she could grab it. Just as she swung, she saw what the man was wearing. Not the gaudy orange suits that the lower tier Assassins would wear, but simple breeches and a tunic. This man was just a lackey, one of the men Chevalier had hired to do the grunt work. The man scowled as her sword stopped inches from his face as if daring her to complete her swing. 

"What are you waiting for? Kill me already!" The man demanded. "Just like you killed the rest of them."  
Her heart seized in her chest, her hand nearly slackened its grip. This sailor could not have known what she has done, whom she had killed before. It was not the first time someone had demanded that she killed them, yet those words hit differently this time. How many people had she killed at this point? How many times had she heard someone beg and plead for their life, for the sake of their families or even their own selfish want? This man had a family, friends, a whole life that she had nearly ended so carelessly. Every bit of her training told her to give in, to finish off this man. He had attacked her first, why should she hold back?  
She forced her breathing to slow, her brain to stop running laps around itself. She let out a breath and moved.

The man's eyes rolled back as she thumped the side of his head, watching as he fell over to his side.  
"I'm through killing for someone else." The sword was cast aside, skidding to the far edge of the vessel. Eleanor wrapped the stray chains around her arms, her eyes set on the last target she would ever take.   
Most of the sailors were engaged in their own battles, so that left the deck clear for her to get to the main fight. Chevalier had knocked Shay back, his elbow colliding with his face in a burst of blood. Chevalier reared back, about to take full advantage of his enemy’s daze and finish this fight once and for all. Eleanor’s feet moved before it registered in her brain, jumping to the banister and leaping off, her wrist bending awkwardly to disengage her hidden blade around the chains. 

Her mark was near perfect, striking him between the shoulders and dragging down his back, but just shy of striking any major organs. His battle cry turned into a pain-filled yelp. She had just enough time to put herself between the captains, hidden blades drawn in a protective stance. Chevalier spun around to glare at her with absolute hatred in his eyes.  
“_Putain!_ You’re defending the traitor over your own brothers?”  
“He didn’t lock me up in the cargo hold!” Eleanor sprang forwards on the offensive, swiping for his stomach. Another assassin swooped down to try to catch Shay off guard, leaving her to fight the Master Assassin on her own. She was shit at close quarters combat when she didn't have the element of surprise, so she stayed back after the first attack, dodging and rolling out of the way. The French captain was relying too much on his swordplay, forgetting the basic weapon of their Brotherhood was at his disposal, which she could use to her advantage. She grunted as she threw the latch from her chains at his face, rolling under his legs while he was distracted, switching the weapon on her hidden blade to the pistol on her gauntlet, took aim, and fired. The captain screeched as the bullet struck his arm, just enough of a force to cause him to drop his weapon. Shay, who had just dispatched the grunt, kicked the weapon out of his range, winding up for another strike.

Chevalier roared as he charged her, now finally using his close-quarters weapons. Eleanor ducked out of his way as he lunged, but his foot stomped down, pinning the chain to the deck, catching her off balance and sending her crashing to the floor. It hardly took a moment, but a hand grabbed the front of her robes, roughly shoving her into the splintering railing. Chevalier’s grip was the only thing saving her from a long plunge to the icy waters below, clawing at his sleeves, either to pull herself back up or make him let go, she wasn't so sure.

“Another step and I'll let go!” He shouted at Shay, who held up his pistol at Chevalier. Eleanor’s eyes scanned the scene as quickly as she could, assessing her next move before making deliberate eye contact with Shay, praying he was understanding what her gaze meant. They had worked together several times on smaller-scale missions before she had been promoted, and even the other assassins who had partners in the field would comment about their mental synchronization at times, it was like the two of them shared one thought. Thankfully, this was still the case. Shay's dark eyes widened, nodding tensely, slightly lowering his weapon.

Eleanor’s foot swung up to kick Chevalier in the family jewels, his surprise giving her enough time to spin free of his hold, grabbing onto the outside of the railing before gravity could take hold of her. Shay shot, meeting him square in the back. The Frenchman stumbled, collapsing against the railing heavily. That's all the poor wood could take, shattering underneath their weight. The sturdy planks fell away and left Eleanor in a free fall. For a prolonged moment, she felt like she was weightless, the same feeling that would happen during a leap of faith. She could have sworn that she heard Shay scream her name as the water swallowed her whole. 

The fall from the ship hurt, the icy waters stole the air from her lungs. Her robes immediately becoming waterlogged and dragging her further into the depths, icy water filling her agape mouth. All she could think about was the same terror that enveloped her the same day Shay had shoved her off the cliff at the Davenport Homestead. But the difference between then and now was she knew what to do.

Remembering the lessons from long ago, her eyes searched for the light source, directly above her head. Ignoring the burning of her lungs desperate for air, her hands cut through the water as quickly as she could manage, aiming for the light. Even though the chains made it hard to swim and the freezing cold stunted her movements, she slowly made her way to the surface. Just as black spots began to form, her hands broke the surface, spurring Eleanor for one last push.  
She broke the surface in a mighty splash. She gasped loudly between chatters, moving her arms and legs to tread the water, trying to ignore the aching muscles as she floated on her back, looking at the snowy sky above. Without conscious thought, she began to laugh.

Eleanor never thought she would be grateful for being tossed off a cliff. 

“Eleanor!”  
She looked up to find Shay bent over the railing, scanning the water for her, looking about a second away from jumping in after.  
“Hh-here!” She called back, finally ceasing her laughing. The relief on his face was evident, even from this far down.  
“Hold tight, I’ll find something to hoist you up.” He vanished for a moment, yelling to the men behind to find a rope or a bit of sail. Eleanor was starting to struggle to stay afloat, the water threatening to pull her back down once more, a long white sheet flew over the side, fluttering down until it brushed the water, sinking from the weight of the cloth. Using the last bit of strength she held, she swam over to the line, wrapping it around her arms and tugging harshly to signal that she was ready. Slowly but surely, Eleanor made her way up the ship, her feet scrambling to find purchases to try to help those who were lugging her up. Gloves hands grabbed hers and pulled until she was back on the deck, collapsing to her knees, trembling and sore and _fucking freezing_.

“That’s it, Ellie, just like that. Just breathe.” The heavy Irish accent soothed her, even though she could detect a hint of panic in his tone. There was fumbling around for a moment, a hidden blade breaking the lock on her handcuffs, tossing the offending articles aside. The gloved hands then pulled back her robes until it was completely removed, leaving her in a soaked shirt and trousers. As quick as the cold came, something large and incredibly warm covered her shoulders, Shay pulled the top button on his coat closed to keep it in place before scrambling to pull the weapon belts back on. Despite the coat draped over her, she couldn’t hold back the violent shuddering, wondering why she had decided to drown in the coldest damned place in the world. A deep chuckling made her realize that she said voiced that thought aloud.  
She slumped back against the firm chest, still shivering and wheezing. Without the coat on, she could feel the heat radiating off of Shay like a stove, and she welcomed his embrace, eyes fluttering shut as she fell back…

“Hey!” A sudden shout and shake woke her. Even though only moments had passed, but it felt like an eternity, dragging her back to reality with a reminder of all of the pain. Her head felt like it was splitting, her chest ached, and both wrists throbbed. Even her face hurt, sharp pain from a slash down her cheek she hadn’t noticed before. Eleanor groaned, wishing for the sweet release of death.   
“I’m sorry Ellie, but you need to stay awake. We’ve gotta get you warm and dried off.” Shay spoke so softly now as if consoling an injured animal. His firm grip helped her stand, but her legs trembled so much she could hardly take two steps before staggering. Luckily, a strong set of arms was there to sweep her up.

“Salvage what you can and recruit anyone willing.” Shay commanded firmly to the crew members around him, moving smoothly from one ship to another without jostling her too much. Eleanor rested her head against his shoulder, looking up at him with new eyes. Despite having known him since the formative years, she had never seen him so at ease around others, giving orders like a seasoned captain. He even gave encouraging smiles to many members of his crew, all of whom seemed to respect Shay and hold him to a high standard, cheering when he boarded his own ship. This was a side of Shay she hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. Perhaps ever.

He turned to a man with a wide brim hat, long hair loose around his shoulders, looked quizzically between the two of them, but thankfully said nothing.  
“Gist, see to the salvaging, I believe Chevalier had some medical supplies on board that we could use. We have to get Captain Cook back to his ship and report what we’ve found out to Master Kenway. The Assassins have nearly a half day's advantage on us.”  
The name of the Grand Master of the Templar Order should have sent a thrill of fear through her. Achilles had drilled into all of the Assassin’s heads that he was the most dangerous man in all of the colonies. Yet, she couldn’t find any reaction to the name. Perhaps it was the cold numbing her to the core, or maybe it was the fact that she had just been rescued and was being carried so gently by someone who she had considered an enemy mere hours ago. 

“Aye Captain, and what of _Le Gerfaut_?” The man asked.  
“Let her sink to the bottom of the sea with her captain alongside her.” He said darkly, adjusting her in his arms as he dismissed the man to his duties, walking towards the Captain’s Quarters. 

The inside was an immaculately organized, papers stacked across a desk in the center of the room, swords and knives sorted by length underneath the windows, casting a weak grey light from the outside. There were bookshelves and tables lining most of the outside of the room, broken up by a low-set bed tucked into a corner. There wasn’t much in terms of decoration, save for the large red cross on the far wall. 

Seeing the cross of her enemies was the wake-up call. Eleanor had attacked an Assassin, a Master Assassin at that, with the intention to kill him. Now she was onboard a Templar ship, and God knows what could happen to her. She knew Shay, or who she thought Shay was before his defection. What if he had changed? The crew obviously loved him, and would just as quickly toss her back to the sea if they deemed her unworthy of being saved, no questions asked. After all, she was the enemy.

“Now then, let’s get you out of those clothes.” He spoke softly as he set her down on the edge of the bed, gently prying the coat from her shoulders. The care in his voice would have made her blush any other time, but she was exhausted and shivering despite the warmth of the room. Eleanor took a deep breath, the tightness in her chest causing her to cough, and slowly began to undress. Had this been any other time before, she would have gladly done what he asked with haste, even enthusiasm. Yet her fingers trembled. She could hardly undo three buttons before his gloved hand covered her shaking ones. She looked into his dark eyes, trying to hide the fear on her face.

“You’re safe now, Ellie. I promise you that no one on board this ship will hurt you, especially not with me around. You have no reason to be afraid.”  
Despite being so cold, her face grew warm. Unbearably so.  
“Let’s get you dry Assassin, you’re starting to look flushed,” Shay said, eyeing her red cheeks warily, beginning to unlace her boots with practiced ease.  
Even with a tight chest that made it hard to breathe, she continued to work her way down the front of her shirt. The linen that she had wrapped around her chest to cover herself was still intact, so he left it alone as she shucked off her shirt, allowing him to cast it to a corner out of sight.

“Trousers next.” He offered one of his hands, helping her stand on her own feet. Eleanor couldn’t hold back another coughing fit, each wrack causing her chest to squeeze like a snake around its prey. Shay quickly undid the buttons, gently working them down her thighs. He turned from her to grab some blankets from the spare trunk among his things, leaving her to peel the wet garment from her legs. She felt separated from her body, as she wasn’t truly present in the cabin and it was hard to focus on the words he was saying. 

Shay was still speaking to her as when he returned with several cotton blankets, but the words were muffled, muted as if he were speaking far away. He even made eye contact and asked her something as he wrapped her up, but everything was fuzzy and distant, except the sharp pain in her chest when she coughed. Eleanor meant to open her mouth to answer, or to ask a question, she wasn't sure, but nothing came out. Black spots had started to cloud her vision and she felt her eyes roll back, yet she never made it to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

…-…

Heat and pain surrounded Eleanor like a shroud. The air around her was too warm, too many layers, yet she shivered as if she had been locked out in the dead of winter. She felt like she was suffocating, a harsh rasp sounded impossibly loud in her ears. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a million tons, but she was wide awake, growing more aware of the pain by the second.  
_‘Focus on something else,'_ Eleanor thought, _'remember your training.’_ She had done hostage training before, she knew how to take in her surroundings without ever opening her eyes. Taking small breaths, Eleanor turned her attention away from the pain, taking in the voices in the room. It sounded like two men, both weighed by different accents. 

“How much longer until we reach the Precursor site?” The first voice was posh and held some form of authority  
“Gist reckons a day or so, but if we can catch a stiff breeze, we could make it by daybreak.” She knew that voice, it was familiar and helped to ease the pain in her chest.  
“Hopefully your delay hasn’t given the Assassins enough headway to destroy another site. Who knows what damage the next earthquake could cause?”  
“It hasn’t.” The other man’s voice was tense. “According to their maps, Liam and Achilles had only just headed out a few hours previous. We’ll catch up with them.”

“Are you prepared to put an end to the Assassins?”  
“Aye. If they cannot see reason.”  
“Even the one who is currently occupying your bed?”

The other man paused, the air growing thick with tension.  
“They had her chained up in the cargo hold like an animal. The Assassin said that she was corrupted, something must have happened for them to turn on her.”  
“And you believe she’s had a change of heart?”  
“If one Assassin could see that our work was in vain for a selfish purpose, then she could have seen it too. They probably wanted to kill two traitors in one swoop.”  
“But we cannot know that for certain.”

“She’s in no state to stop us.” The man sighed. “When she wakes, I will give her a choice. I assure you I will make the right decision, and it will not affect my duties.”  
“I certainly hope so.” There was a sharp click of boots, the sound of a door opening and closing with a rush of cold air, a whimper falling past her lips as she shifted from swelteringly hot to horrifically freezing in an instant. 

Aware of her consciousness, heavy footfalls made their way over, the bed dropping under the weight.  
“Shh, it’s alright Ellie.” The voice cooed, dropping some of the intensity now that he was alone. Something cool and wet was placed on her forehead, soothing her like rain quenching a fire. A gentle hand brushed the stray droplets from her face. 

Eleanor needed to see her caretaker, see who had stuck up for her at her lowest. She lifted her eyelids, blinking a couple of times to try to focus on the man in front of her. The dark hair and dark eyes should have sent fear rushing through her, but she could only find relief. Those eyes were heavy with worry, and though the bottom half of his face was covered by a mask, she could see the small smile take over his features. 

“Shay...” She wanted to keep going, but the act of speaking sent her into a coughing fit, another wave of pain hitting full force.  
Shay’s smile dropped slightly as he pushed the hair out of her face.  
“Save your energy, rest. I’ll be right here.” 

She gently grabbed his cool hand in her clammy one, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to make her brain work properly. Eleanor wanted to say something, but what could she even say.  
_I’m sorry for not believing you? Sorry for being a fool? Thank you for saving me, over and over again? Thank you for believing in me?_

“I love you.”

That felt right to say, but she couldn’t stay awake any longer to hear his response, tumbling back down into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

...-...

The next time Eleanor awoke was much different. The pain had decreased significantly, only the faintest rattling deep in her chest. She still felt like she had taken a leap of faith and missed the hay cart, but that was miles better than how she had been when she woke up before. Just before she opened her eyes, the realization hit her, reminding her of what had happened. 

She was betrayed and left for dead. And now she was on Shay’s ship, a Templar ship, with no escape routes and no allies.  
Even still, she couldn’t pretend to be asleep forever. It was time to wake up and face her fears. 

Breathing deeply, Eleanor opened her eyes and focused on the unfamiliar wooden planks above her head. Faint streams of light entered the room from behind dark red curtains, she could only guess to what time of day it was though. She sat up slowly, ignoring the sharp twinge in her chest and looked down at herself. Whoever was taking care of her had the decency to care for her injuries and dress her in clothing, though it was unfamiliar and much larger than her frame. Her bracers were missing, she felt more exposed than ever before. 

“Ah, she awakens.”

Eleanor’s head whipped around as she pressed closer to the wall, hackles raised and fists clenched into the sheets. Had she not been so sick and weak, perhaps she might have had a different response, but here she was, crouched in the corner like a wounded animal, glaring at the man who had addressed her. 

He was incredibly well dressed for a man living on a ship, not a sailor nor another captain. Everything about him was polished and poised, like some government official, he even had the air of someone who had power. But his eyes were cold, colder than the air outside, like flint and steel. It felt like he could see every strength and weakness she possessed and put them against her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Even with her disheveled thoughts, she knew who this man was. Achilles had his photo tacked up on the wall in the weapons room, along with members of his inner circle. 

“Master Cormac was beginning to worry that we would need to dock soon in order to find you a proper doctor. Had it not have been for the medication that Master Gist found among the Assassin's belongings, you might now have woken ever again.” He turned away from her to the desk, grabbing a tray from the edge. “How do you take your tea?”

She had to double take.  
Haytham Kenway, the Grand Master of the Templar Order, one of the most feared men in the Western world, the man both indirectly and directly responsible for the countless deaths of her brothers and sisters in arms. And he wanted to serve her tea?

He noticed her silence and looked to her again, tutting at her look.  
“Come now, it’s the least a proper person could do for an invalid. Do you take milk or sugar?”  
She still maintained her silence, unsure of how to wrap her brain around something so simple, yet so massively complex.

Kenway sighed, pouring a cup and walking across the room. She could only hope he didn’t see how she had tensed up as he approached. He stopped a few feet away, holding out the cup-like an olive branch. Eleanor looked from the cup to his face, trying to get a read on the situation. Had she fallen down the so far down rabbit hole that up was down and left was right? Why would this man try to be kind to her? This man had been her enemy since she started training, yet he also didn’t move from his spot, not forcing her to take the cup nor taking it away. He was waiting for her to make the choice.

Looking down at the cup, she finally made her move, her thirst outweighs her pride. Reaching out to grasp it in both of her hands, wincing as she heard the rattle of the china when she held it close to her chest. The man had no remark about it, merely striding across the room and grasping the chair he had been sitting in and dragging it until he was facing the bed, a cup of tea in his own hand and sitting down like this was some scheduled meeting of acquaintances. 

Ignoring the absurdity of this situation, she slowly took a sip, (waiting for him to drink first, just in case), enjoying the warmth it brought her. Tea was one of Eleanor’s favorite beverages. It was something she would have along with a good book by the hearth back at the Homestead the rare chances she had off. Each sip reminded her of simpler times, peaceful opportunities that she missed. 

“Well, enough idle chitter-chatter, let’s get to business.” Kenway said smartly, placing the teacup on the floor. She folded her legs in front of her, unsure of where this was going. “Do you know where you are? Who you are?”  
“Yes.” Her voice was rough from disuse, but after a cough and clearing her throat, she was able to repeat herself more clearly.  
“Wonderful, then we can assume brain damage is off the table.” He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out an envelope with a broken seal, the parchment inside showing signs of wear and tear, as if this wasn’t the first time he had looked over the documents. 

“Eleanor James, Master Assassin to the Colonial and French Brotherhood, proficient in both blades and negotiations. Quite the kill list here.” He remarked, flipping the pages. “Many of our finest lieutenants and liaisons for Spain and France have fallen by your blade and thousands of pounds worth of supplies as well as priceless intel lost due to your meddling. Is that correct?”  
“It is.”She never thought of her work as impressive before, but apparently she had gained the attention of the enemy, even the Grandmaster himself.  
“Tell me something, Mistress Eleanor, why shouldn’t I kill you right here and now?” The Grandmaster tucked the documents away as he sat back in his chair. 

In all honesty, she was surprised that he hadn’t plunged right into that question. She had royally screwed up many Templar plans while over in Europe, she wouldn’t have been shocked if he had a photo of her in his basement too. He above all others would have a vendetta against her, his cause would benefit from her death, but Kenway continued to sit across from her with ease. He knew she could pose no threat against him, not while she was sick, and especially not on a Templar ship. He could finish the job without even losing his breath.  
“Besides taking Shay’s satisfaction of singlehandedly eliminating the Master Assassins of the Colonial order, it beats me.” Eleanor shrugged, leaning against the wall. 

His head tilted, as if confused by her complacency.  
“Did you wish for me to blubber and beg for my life? To tell you of all of the prospects I have or of the burden it would cause my family? Because neither of those things are true. If you had wanted to kill me, you would have done so when I was delirious with fever. Or the moment you found out I was on board. Yet here I am.” She stopped in her speech to cough into her elbow. “Which means that you have questions for me.”

"Smart girl."  
"Despite what you believe, the Assassins don't give their highest ranks to complete dumbasses."  
Part of her felt ridiculous, engaging in such an easy conversation with a man who would most likely kill her if she said the wrong thing. The training she had was screaming at her to fight or run away, find a way off this ship and back to safety. Even still, she found herself relaxing somewhat, feet hanging off the side of the bed, wrapping the blankets around her shoulders.

“You are right with the questions, but I am not sure that you would give me the answers I seek.” He told her.  
“Achilles and the others became quite secretive in the past few weeks. Even I don’t know all of the things he would. But you're right, I would rather pitch myself off the bow of this ship than give away my Order’s secrets.”  
“What good is it keeping a dead Order’s secrets?”  
Eleanor furrowed her eyebrows. “How do you mean?”

“Shay and I found the Assassins at the last Precursor site only yesterday. They were not able to see reason, so they had to be eliminated.”  
“All of them?”  
“Yes.” Kenway got to his feet, taking care of his cup, not understanding the absolute cannonball he had just shot into her life.  
She blinked at him, opening her mouth but closing it when she couldn’t find words. Every person she had known, grown-up alongside, learned from, and fought side-by-side with. All of them were gone. A gaping hole formed in her chest, sinking down to her stomach and taking all feeling with it. 

“You didn’t know?”  
“This is the first coherent conversation I’ve had since falling ill.” She tried to push past the numb feeling spreading through her, curling into the blanket.  
“I would say I am apologetic to your loss, but as it was the sole opposition to my Order, I feel as though my words would fall short.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but came off as condescending. 

“So, I am the last Assassin.” Eleanor said numbly, her hands curling into fists in the sheets, something small and solid rolling towards her palm and resting heavily against her hand.  
“In this hemisphere, yes.” Kenway shrugged. “All that leaves in where shall you go from here? Had it been up to me, I would have you join your brothers in arms, but Master Cormac believes the best in you. Perhaps he thinks you could join our ranks.”

Eleanor scoffed at that notion.  
“Something funny?”  
“I find it odd that you threaten me and offer me a position in the same breath.”  
“If one Assassin could see the truth, why not more.”  
“Truth is subjective to each one of us. Besides, Shay told me he wasn’t trying to convert me to your ideas.”  
“And how well do you know Master Cormac?” The Grandmaster raised his brow.  
“Better than most.” She admitted, feeling her shoulders tense under his scrutiny. This man was the _last_ person she wanted to talk to about her feelings.

“Oh. I see.” He shook his head. “You care for him. Quite deeply too, if your reaction is anything to go by.”  
Eleanor unclenched her jaw and looked away, too proud to admit.  
“This is where the Assassins go wrong. Feelings cloud judgment, making you susceptible to manipulation and folly. How are you to know if Master Cormac isn’t using you—“

If he had more to say, it was silenced by the dull thud of a blade embedding into the wall behind him. The knife wobbled in place but stayed deep in the dark wood. The Templar Grandmaster raised a hand to his cheek, an odd expression overcoming his face as his fingers came away red with blood. Had Eleanor been in her prime state, that would been through his throat.

“Clearly you have no idea what you are talking about.” Eleanor couldn’t hold back the fury in her voice, shaking with the effort to stay steady. “I don’t care anymore, Templar or Assassin, both are as good as dead to me. But don’t you _dare_ bring him into this. Shay would never use me, he’s too good of a person."  
"And if you're wrong?" His voice dropped low, but Eleanor wasn't backing down. She would not be the sniveling coward he expected.  
If I’m wrong, then I guess you’ll be getting your wish Mister Kenway.”

The door to the cabin flew open, two men stood ready to intervene in whatever incident was occurring. Shay and his Quartermaster looked between the two of them and the knife still in the wall.  
Mister Kenway schooled his expression into a passive one, Eleanor didn’t even try to hide her anger, but even that was fading back into the nothingness in her chest. 

“Everything alright Grandmaster?” The man in the hat asked as Mister Kenway walked across the room, yanking the knife out of the wood.  
“Just fine Master Gist, just a small miscommunication.” He handed back the knife to Shay. “Although I do question why Master Cormac sleeps with a knife under his pillow in his own cabin.”  
“One can never be too careful, Sir, even if the comfort of his own home.” Shay responded, a small smile on his face as he tucked the blade into his coat. 

Mister Kenway merely hummed, turning to the other man.  
“Master Gist, could you point me in the direction of your first aid. I believe Captain Cormac has some...catching up to do with his guest.”  
“Of course sir.” The man waved his hand for his leader to follow. The Grandmaster didn’t even offer her a backward glance, but Eleanor knew that he would not forget this. 

As soon as the coast was clear, Shay started chuckling, undoing the clasps of his coat and holsters.  
“I leave you alone for five minutes and you start throwing knives. I remember the days where you couldn't even talk back to Achilles, now look at you.” He shrugged the coat and belts off, hanging them neatly on the back of the chair. That comment hurt in a way he didn’t mean, but it reminded Eleanor that she was completely on her own for the first time in a long time. No brothers, no allies, no friends. Suddenly she was a fifteen-year-old kid again, tossed to the street like filth, with very little to her name and impossibly high odds against her. She was completely and utterly alone.

“Ellie?”  
“Is it true?” She asked breathlessly, desperate to hold back the storm of emotions swirling in her head. “Are they gone? Even... even Liam?”  
“There was no other way.”  
Her breath hitched, caught in her throat over the swell of feelings.  
She heard his approach, refusing to look at him as she was crying. She immediately closed up as he crouched down in front of her, legs and arms wrapping around to block out the world. Still, one of his hands reached to brush her leg while the other gripped her hand tightly, holding on while the world fell apart. 

Eleanor wept, collapsing in upon herself. Gasping for breath as the weight of what she was feeling crashed over her, overwhelming her with bitterness and guilt and anger and shame and loss. But mostly just a vast sadness that reverberated deep within her soul.  
Shay, for his part, was quiet. He didn’t try to fill the void with empty promises or false reassurances. He merely sat there, holding tight like an anchor. She knew deep down that he must have felt some of what she was, in some form or another, for he had once been a Brother.  
After an undetermined amount of time, she fell silent, back into the numbness once more. Shay moved once he felt the worst had passed, sitting on the bed next to her. 

“Are you okay?” He didn’t need to whisper in his own room, but yet he was speaking lowly as if he wanted to make sure no one else could hear. His hand moved from her leg to her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline with feather-like strokes.  
Eleanor reluctantly shook her head, more tears cascading down her face despite her attempts to calm. His other hand joined, cradling her head as if she were something treasured. She looked into his dark eyes, trying to ground herself.

“Did Chevalier hurt you? I know he had you chained up, but did he do anything else?”  
“N-No. I was just supposed to be bait.” She admitted.  
He breathed heavily out of his nose, shutting his eyes as if pained by something. 

“I’m sorry.” Eleanor said.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He opened his eyes. “Absolutely nothing.”  
“But I do.” She looked at him with tear-stained cheeks. “I—I didn’t listen. You were right about the Master Assassins, I was too stubborn and naive to believe you. You’re my best friend and I couldn’t trust you.”

“I mean, I did defect to the one organization that is striving to oppose the Assassins, so that wasn’t too clear.” He tried to get her to smile, but she kept shaking her head.  
“The Precursor sites were dangerous, yet I worked for years to help Achilles find them. I’ve hurt people who I thought knew things about them, I might have killed some innocent people who had nothing to do with our Order just because someone told me to. I broke the Creed over and over again. I worked for the bad guys the whole time.”

“The Assassins are not the bad guys, not completely.” Shay moved closer, pressing her to his side. “After Achilles lost his family, he wanted to ensure that no one would be put in danger again, especially by Templar hands. The Precursor sites gave the power to help our allies and destroy our enemies, but the sites, they poisoned our ways and his grief blinded him. It caused us to stray from what the Creed originally stood for. That is part of why I left. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. I killed thousands of innocents in Lisbon because I was told too, even before then, I hurt dozens and dozens of people through my actions. You were following orders. You did what you thought was best, and there is no fault in that. Our actions should not completely define us, we should be given time to change and grow, no matter who we end up being in the end.”

“But who am I now?” Eleanor asked in the quiet. “Everything I knew is being called into question and I have no one to turn to. I have not felt this alone in a very long time.”  
“You’re not alone, Ellie." He looked down, brushing a few stray hairs from her face. "Whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere. Once we get back to New York, you may stay or you may find your own path, I won’t stop you, but I’ll be around for as long as you need me Ellie.”

Eleanor’s heart fluttered, stirring back some of the life in her. The words he spoke, the close proximity, the way he was holding her, the way his eyes seemed to dart from her own down- she was certain that he would close the gap to seal the deal. She closed her eyes and gave the smallest of nods.

“Captain!” The door banged open, separating the both of them like a gun had just been fired. Eleanor covered herself further with the blanket, trying to hide the flush of her face from the newest guest.  
“Gist, what’s happened?” Shay asked, adjusting his collar slightly as he stood.  
“You’re going to want to see this.” Despite the apparent urgent-ness of his time, there seemed to be no trouble brewing, his eyes alight with excitement.  
“Alright, I’ll be up in a moment.” Shay dismissed him curtly.  
“Aye aye.” He glanced over to Eleanor, his smile growing. “Nice to see you awake and alert Miss!” He said in a cheery tone as he closed the door. 

“I—um, I guess you should go see what he needs?” Eleanor said, still looking at the floor as she fought to control the blush.  
“Yeah, I guess.” He strode over to the chair, carefully redressing in his coat and holsters. She watched for the corner of her eye at his effectiveness. “Your clothing should be dried. Sorry, we haven’t had time to wash them, but we’ll be back to the Colonies at the end of the week.” He seemed skittish, looking around the room to keep his eyes off of her. With a firm nod to nothing, in particular, he turned on his heel.

“Shay.” Eleanor stopped him before he could fully retreat outside, peeking his head back in with a wide eye glance. “Thank you.”  
The nervousness that she had seen just moments before vanished. “Any time, Eleanor.” He spun around and shut the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things go from 0 to 100 in these next few chapters, so buckle up kiddos!

**The North Atlantic, 1760**

Even when everything seemed to end, there was still beauty in the world.

Eleanor clutched onto the wool shawl wrapped around her, watching the sky erupt in green and blue and purple lights over the water. Those were the Aurora Borealis, if she remembered her studies correctly, something very rare to see for how far south she had lived. Even though being out in the cold was probably not helping her healing process, she couldn’t possibly take one more minute of being inside. Shay was a few paces away from her, lost in his own thoughts as he looked out over the water. It had only been 20 minutes since she had seen him last, taking care of herself for the first time in what felt like weeks, but something must have happened during their brief parting. Shay hardly acknowledged her when she came above deck, despite nearly kissing her in his cabin a short while ago.

“How are you feeling?” Master Gist asked her as he came to her side, resting his back against the railing.  
“Better.” She tried her best to stifle a cough. “Still on the mend, but it might be like this for a while I figure.”  
He hummed lightly.  
“So, I’m figuring you heard about what happened at the Precursor Site.” She couldn't tell if his voice was full of pity or remorse.

It felt surreal like she would turn around and be back on _Le Gerfaut_, all of this just a horrible bad dream. But she knew better than to hope on wishes, an aching sense of longing filling her, wishing for days before Precursor sites and betrayals.  
“It’s the end of everything.” She responded quietly.  
“So what will you do now?”

She paused, curling her hand into a fist.  
There was no way in a Hell that she would ever become a Templar, no matter what Shay believed. Even being betrayed by those she loved couldn’t change her ideas. Yet there was no place for her back in the Colonies with the Brotherhood defeated, and she didn’t have the money or resources to travel to start anew. Eleanor didn’t belong anywhere.

“I don’t know. I’m a bit too young to become a spinster in the woods yet, and I can’t do anything productive unless I have a father or a husband. Maybe I’ll get married to some old bloke and pray he dies off before I have to sleep with him.” She joked, only half kidding.  
Eleanor wasn't exactly the young lady that men would go chasing after. She coming up on her 27th birthday this year. Most girls her age were already wives and/or mothers at this point, and despite the cities being large, there were few bachelors. Even fewer that she would be able to tolerate being around. In the Colonies, rights to land and housing were given to the white men who had money and power, neither of which she had. The only loophole she could get away with would be to get hitched to some elderly man with lots of money and pray that the man left her the fortune when he passed.

Gist barked out a laugh, loud in the silent night.  
“I’m sure a bright and beautiful lass like yourself could land several suitors before we reach the first tavern in New York.”  
Eleanor rolled her eyes. Despite the initial distrust of the Templar, she was finding that she could talk easier with him, relaxing in the slightest.  
“It’s hard to find someone with similar life experiences.” Eleanor leaned against the railing. "Just by speaking the way I do would scare most men off, let alone if they found out what I do...what I did.”  
“I can think of several men that wouldn’t mind.” Gist spoke a bit quieter, his eyes under the brim of his hat glancing towards the Captain, still staring out at the water with a pensive look on his face. 

Eleanor pretended not to notice, hoping the dark night would cover her blush. Even he could see her crush on the Captain? She needed to get better at her poker face.  
“Master Gist, are you proposing? We just met a few hours ago, but if you’re feeling it...” She teased.  
“Bah, my true love is the sea. Despite your beauty, I’d rather spend the rest of my days with her.” He rolled his eyes with a small wave of his hand. She couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. If they kept up this idle chatter, perhaps they could become unlikely acquaintances. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Both Eleanor and the second in command looked over, Shay hadn’t moved from his spot, and she almost didn't believe that he had even spoken when he finally looked up at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “If you’ll have me, that is.”  
“Shay?”  
“It doesn’t even have to be an official thing. Just claim me as your husband and do what you please. I’ll be busy looking for the Precursor box anyways, just tell whoever needs to know that I’m traveling.” 

“Unfortunately I don’t believe it’ll be that easy, not with the paperwork and banns necessary...” Master Gist trailed off from the stern look his captain sent.  
“We’ll figure something out. The faster we get this going, the faster it’ll be over and we can be done with each other.” 

Those words were like an unexpected knife in her abdomen. Was this not the same man who said that he wouldn't leave her alone just a little bit ago? She could see what she hoped was a brief look of regret on his face before he turned away. “We’ll talk to Master Kenway tomorrow, see what our options are. I’m heading below, I’ll be back at sunrise to take the wheel.” His boots thumped the stairs as he hurried away, the door to his quarters closing with a snap. 

“I-uh, I wouldn’t take what he said to heart, lass.” Gist apologized to Eleanor, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks, and it’s not getting any easier for him.”  
He whistled for another sailor to take the wheel. “I can show you to your quarters, the Captain set them up once you started to get on the mend. We could all use a good night’s sleep.” He held out his arm for her to follow like a gentleman. She could only nod quietly and follow, Shay’s words bouncing around her head like an echo as she walked below, a pit forming in her stomach that lingered for the rest of the trip.

...

**New York, 1760**

**One Week Later**

Many girls spent weeks or months planning their weddings, meticulously planning everything from the gown she would wear to the sandwiches served at the dinner afterward. Everything would be just as they had wanted as they vowed to be with the men they loved forever.  
Unfortunately, Eleanor was not given that luxury.

“Christ almighty!” Eleanor gasped out, the air punched from her lungs as if she had taken a blow to the abdomen. She was familiar with that feeling, and honestly, she would have rather been punched. She clutched the chair tighter, knuckles paling, trying to breathe normally as the stays squeezed around her ribs and waist. It had been ages since she had worn actual lacing and it was starting to show, acting like a child who had never been laced up properly. The maid behind her grimaced in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed as she worked.

“Terribly sorry Miss.” The younger girl said softly as she laced the stays up.  
“It’s not your fault.” Perhaps small sentences would be best, at least until Eleanor had access to the bottom half of her lungs. “Damn society... Men don’t have to do this... Absolute bullshit.” 

Eleanor would have given anything to be in the usual trousers and shirt at the moment, but for once she had to play by the rules and keep up appearances. It wasn’t the poor girl’s fault to force this upon her. As far as she knew, the maid was earning double what she usually earned for her participation and her silence once this was all said and done.  
The young girl had no idea that Eleanor was a con, adopting an illusion to put an end to Eleanor James. It was strange for her, even living her life in such secrecy, she had never pretended to be someone she wasn’t, not even to sneak into an event to pursue a target. But she wanted to keep her secret close to her heart, for more than just her sake at this point, so if that meant being lightheaded all day by lack of oxygen was the way, might as well make this damned thing tighter.  
As if spurred on by her thoughts, the strings were pulled taught, another curse falling from her lips. 

“That was the last one, I promise.” The maid said, fluttering around like a hummingbird to grab the different parts of the dress. Eleanor held back a comment about how complex dresses were as each part of the dress was pinned and tied into place with practiced ease. The girl moved behind her to grab her shoes and pearl pins. As the girl’s hands moved to her hair, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder about this girl. 

She was younger than her, probably just under the twenty, so full of life and hope. The girl had no idea of the drama that her Master was involved in, nor the devastation that was caused by the secret war. She didn’t know Eleanor’s backstory or what she had done. The maid didn’t even ask any questions about her relationship with her soon-to-be husband, or what had prolonged the wait to get married. She was just a normal girl, probably only worried about the town gossip or what her own wedding would be like. 

This girl pinned the last intricate braid down and stepped back, overlooking her job with her hands on her hips.  
“What do you think Miss?” She asked timidly, allowing Eleanor to assess herself in the mirror for the first time since she had been rushed in that morning. 

The dress was the nicest thing Eleanor has ever worn. Satin gold color with black embroidery decorated the hems of the skirt and the stomacher in an intricate pattern that must have taken ages to sew, delicate lace tickling where it brushed her forearms. Although it had been a pain, she had to admit that her figure was shaped and defined now, showing off curves that she had hidden behind robes, the low neckline of the dress covered by a black kerchief wrapped around her neck and tucked into the front of the dress. Her light hair that was usually a mess was braided, wrapped around her head and trailed down her back in long blonde waves. The stark contrast of the dark colors against her pale skin and hair gave her an air of regency and sophistication, hardly showing the scared child that she felt.

This was the girl she had hidden behind the hood for all of these years. 

“Thank you. Truly.” Eleanor grinned at her, the dulled pain in her chest was almost worth it to see the girl smile proudly.  
The smile immediately fell at the sharp knocks at the door. Eleanor busied herself with adjusting the skirts while the girl answered the door. She bobbed in a curtsy, casting her eyes to the ground. 

“Is she ready?”  
“Yes sir.” The maid answered.  
“Leave us a moment.”  
Eleanor quietly steeled herself, a hand over her stomach, as if to stave off the feeling in the bottom of her gut that told her to run, and turned towards the Templar Grandmaster. The first thing she noticed was the thin line on his cheek from her outburst last they had met. Perhaps it would scar, she thought, trying not to feel too smug about it. Too bad there wasn’t anyone around for her to brag about the accomplishment.

“Are they ready?” She asked quietly.  
“Yes, should I tell you you look lovely? A true blushing bride?” Mr. Kenway glanced her over as if looking for any stray string or hair out of place to correct.  
“Please don’t.”  
“Very well then, shall we be off?” He offered an arm to her. She took it without protest, trying not to feel like this was a funeral procession rather than a wedding march. 

No matter how hard Eleanor tried, she still couldn’t get a read on the man beside her. He may not have been the vicious monster the other Master Assassins had told her about, but he had the air about him that made the hair on the back of her neck stand. He was dangerous, and her first instincts were to flex her wrist, though a hidden blade hadn’t been there for hours now, (something about too many questions from the public, even though she knew that Shay would have his on). 

Yet the Grandmaster agreed to this whole charade, not only allowing it to happen but actually helping this event take place in under a week of docking back in New York. Mister Kenway had a cover story of her being related to his half-sister. From this moment on, at least in public records, she would be known as Eleanor Scott, the young heiress to the Kenway estate who had come under her uncle’s care several years previous and fallen for an unknown Irish captain. Not only would the new identity give her some leeway, as such a powerful name attached to her made her feared by many officials, but it would allow her the freedom to live her life free of former associations.  
Eleanor still had no idea why. It was one thing for Shay to help cover for her, but for the Grandmaster of the Templar’s to play pretend in this scheme? Would he have some kind of advantage over her? Some trick up his sleeve to pull out when convenient? Or maybe she was still thinking in black and white?

“Having second thoughts?” His voice startled her out of her stupor, the chapel doors standing imposing in front of her. She could hear the bit of commotion going on behind the doors, at least half a dozen people waiting on her entrance.  
“No.” She stuck her chin out. Despite their differences at the moment, Eleanor wouldn’t ever want to hurt Shay. Not after everything he was sacrificing for her.  
“Good. The last thing that this day need is more excitement.” He squared his shoulders, rapping against the wooden frame. Even if she had any doubts, the doors opened and they were welcomed in before she would have gotten a protest in. 

Eleanor had never been to a wedding before, but even she knew that this was an odd ceremony. The Reverend they had found on such short notice looked massively uncomfortable, but that might have been because Mister Kenway threatened to expose the Father’s greed to his congregation unless he agreed to proceed without the banns and as discreetly as possible. The first pews on either side were the only seats that were filled, strangers all looking to her. She recognizes a few as some of the higher up Templars, Mister Kenway’s inner circle, who must have only been in attendance for the sake of needing witnesses. They only all showed up together for important events, (which, to be fair, a wedding of one of their own must be quite the show). She could feel the weight of all of their stares- confusion, indifference, even anger as to why this was being allowed. The only non-Templars in the room were an elderly couple at the front, looking between her and the groom.

The only thing that was keeping Eleanor from running was the man poised at the very end of the aisle. 

Shay had cleaned up quite nicely, his hair kept back in a neat low ponytail with a new red ribbon. He had traded his dark jacket for one of a stark white and red, most of his belts were missing and the few he had on were empty of weapons, save for the dual swords he kept on him at all times. Although he looked a bit unsure of what to do with his hands, he stood tall and proud. 

Watching his face grow warm with a smile, Eleanor didn’t see Shay the Assassin or Shay the Templar. She saw the boy who had carried her back after pushing her off the cliff promising to teach her to swim to make up for his mistake, the young man who poked and prodded at her in one breath but encouraged and praised her in the next, the one who sat by her sickbed and fought to keep her safe. She saw Shay, the man who was giving up his freedom for the chance for her to live her own life.  
At that moment, Eleanor realized that she truly loved him, even if he would never return the feelings.

Though anxiety of the unknown still swirled in her stomach, Eleanor walked down the aisle with her head high and a small smile on her face. Shay reached for her with a gloved hand, unconsciously squeezing her hand as she took a step up to join him at the altar. Though they dropped their hands to their sides as the Reverend started the ceremony, he still kept a loose grip on her fingers, as if she would go flying back up the aisle if he were to let go.  
_‘Or maybe it was just for appearance’s sake.’_ She couldn’t help but think, as only half of the room knew the truth of their arrangement. 

Most of what the Reverend spoke of in a nasal voice was the commitment they should have to one another, talking of God and His promise to mankind, and how they should apply it to their married life. Half of it went over her head, the religious imagery, not one she was familiar with, nor was in dire need of knowing, but Eleanor did like the idea that vows they were taking were sacred and must be held to the highest standard.  
After long prayer and blessings for their matrimony and even more talking from the elderly man, the Father had them turn to each other, waving for someone to bring the rings as Shay removed his gloves. 

“Miss Scott, please repeat after me.” The man told her as he passed off a silver ring, smaller than his Templar ring, but just as heavy in her palm.  
Eleanor nodded, repeating in a quiet but strong voice after the Reverend.  
“I, Eleanor Marie Scott, take thee, Shay Patrick Cormac, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forth, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'till death do we part,” She focused on sliding the ring on his left hand, noticing it was a bit big for his finger. She looked up at him again, rubbing her thumb over the band. “I pledge myself to you.”

Shay let out a small breath, taking the smaller silver ring from the Reverend. His eyes were soft as he spoke to her as if she were the only person in the room.  
“I, Shay Patrick Cormac, take thee, Eleanor Marie Scott, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forth, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health 'till death do we part. I pledge myself to you.” He refused to break eye contact, even as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He didn’t drop her hands either, his thumbs bumping over her knuckles. She could feel the blood rush to her face as she met his gaze. 

The Father spoke once more, looking between the both of them. “By the power invested in me, by the Holy King and the Crown, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”  
Eleanor looked up to Shay, her husband, trying not to look embarrassed or unsure, especially in front of all these strangers. She had thought about kissing this man dozens of times, but now that the opportunity was present, she was petrified. 

Luckily Shay was a fast actor, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close to him, gently cupping her face. The new ring felt cool against her cheek as he leaned down, a short and simple kiss to mark their union. Eleanor couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Weren’t first kisses supposed to be filled with passion and fireworks, sweeping her off of her feet with how mind-blowing it was? She barely had time to respond before he was pulling away, color high on his cheekbones. 

A small round of applause broke out, pulling them away. Retaking her hand, Shay led the way back up the aisle. His grip never wavered, steady like a heartbeat, it was the only thing keeping her afloat.  
It was odd to see the outside world so unchanged. It had only been since this morning that she had been apart of it, but everything felt different. The sky was brighter and the air holding a sweeter smell that only the late spring held. Eleanor supposed that she was the only one who had undergone the change, now entering the world as Eleanor Marie Cormac. 

There was a carriage waiting for them, the driver tapping out the stale tobacco from his pipe as the newlyweds made their way over. Just before Shay could reach for the handle, Gist had laid a hand on Shay’s shoulder. He bent over to whisper something in his ear, too soft for Eleanor to hear even with her focused hearing. Shay nodded tensely, turning back around to her with an apologetic look.

“I’ll be right back.” He told her softly, squeezing her hand before dropping her, following Gist with a serious look on his face.  
Before Eleanor could think of climbing into the carriage to avoid all of the stares from the guests, probably wondering why Shay had just left her just as she was, the elderly couple that she had noticed earlier was walking towards her, the woman wearing a giant grin on her face. 

“Look at you! She’s just glowing, isn’t she Barry?” The woman cooed, yet it didn’t come off as condescending or pitiful, gently taking her hands with her wrinkled ones.  
“Of course dear.” The man was distracted by the horses that drew the carriage, half paying attention to the ladies.  
“I, um, thank you so much for coming Mrs…” Eleanor tried to be warm towards them, not to be flustered for once.

“Cassidy Finnegan, and this is my husband, Barry. Shay was put into our care by a dear friend all those years ago, he had a nasty fall from his ship, at least that's what we were told. It seems like just yesterday that the Colonel was dropping him off on our doorstep, dazed and confused as a groundhog at the first thaw.” Her laugh was merry, and it brought a real smile to Eleanor for the first time, no matter how small. Did these people know what Shay did for a living? How he actually was injured before coming into their care? Nonetheless, they seemed like they actually cared about him, a breath of fresh air in a stale and bland world. 

“Shay has mentioned you before,” The lie rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. “Thank you so much for taking care of him in his time of need.”  
“It was truly our pleasure. He has done so much for us and this district, clearing the gangs and illegal weapons out of our part of the city, we've been able to walk around at night with no trouble. The least we can do is offer him a warm meal and bed whenever he’s docked in New York. But I suppose that he’ll have his own place to go for that now.”

Right, she had her own house now. While he was spending most of the week sorting out the paperwork and starting repairs on the _Morrigan_ to ready her for their next voyage in a few weeks, Eleanor had been busy setting up her… their new home.  
“I’m sure Shay will make your house a stop when he does come back to shore.” Eleanor reassured the woman. 

“After all that we’ve done for him, he better have.” Barry scoffed.  
“Barry!” Cassidy scolded him, shaking her head and turning back to Eleanor. “We wanted to come over to properly introduce ourselves, as well as to offer you a place of refuge. I know that Shay is most often gone doing… oh, whatever it is that he does with that ship of his, and running an empty house can be very lonely. You are welcomed over for dinner or tea anytime, so long as you send a message a few hours before so I can set a place for you.”

Eleanor tilted her head, her hands twitching slightly. These people were almost complete strangers to her, they knew nothing of who she was before, yet they were willing to open up their home to her, without any strings attached. Perhaps it was still possible for there to be genuine people.  
“ I am sure I will take you up on that offer.” Eleanor said, watching Shay approach out of the corner of her eye, looking somber. “Thank you both kindly.”  
“It would be our absolute pleasure,” Cassidy said before turning to a returning Shay, wagging a finger at him that wasn’t all friendly teasing. “Now don’t you drive this one away, she’s a good one, I can tell.”  
“Aye, that she is,” Shay spoke softly, gently grasping a hold of her hand. Cassidy reached up to pat his cheek affectionately and turned to drag her husband away from the carriage.

“Uh, dear,” It took a moment longer than normal for Eleanor to realize that Shay was speaking to her, the nickname threw her off until she noticed that both Cassidy and Barry were still in earshot of them. “I’m afraid that something has come up, I need to take care of some business before I can join you at home. Will you be alright traveling by yourself?”   
What kind of business could have arisen on the day of his wedding? A quick glance out of her peripheral saw that both Gist and a stern-looking man with a large mustache were watching them, eagerly waiting for him to finish. Whatever the situation was, it must have been serious enough to drag him away on his wedding day.

“Of course,” Eleanor said, gently squeezing his hand. “You know I can take care of myself.”  
“That I do.” He chuckled, visibly relaxing when she didn’t question him. “I shouldn’t be more than a day, two at the most. I will have someone stop by to check on you.”  
“Thank you…darling.” Why did the nicknames sound so clumsy coming from her? She had lost count of how many names she has called Shay over the years, but that was before the drama, back when they were only friends, not pretend lovers.  
Shay nodded, looking awkward for a moment like he was about to bolt. Eleanor took that as her cue to make her way to the door of the carriage, dropping his hand. 

“Wait for a mo’.” He grabbed her hand again, pulling her snug to him and reaching down to cup her face with both hands. This time, Shay did not hold back any reservations, slotting his mouth against her’s to kiss her properly. 

And kiss her he did. 

_This_ is what a kiss had been described to her as, all of the passion and enthusiasm that had been quelled before exploded. She knew that Shay had more experience in this department, as most people had, but even someone as new to this could tell that he had perfected the act into an art. His mouth was soft yet strong, guiding her pliant lips into a delicate rhythm with him, not forcing anything upon her as his hands tilted her head up. Her stomach swooped low as his tongue gently pressed past hers, tracing the inside of her mouth and curling against her in a way that left her weak in the knees. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, the new leather smooth under her fingertips, for some sense of grounding as the world fell away. It was like she had just leaped from the tallest vantage point, the weightlessness and rush of adrenaline, she could have happily savored that moment forever. 

Shay pulled back, quietly gasping as much as she was, her face flushed both from the kiss and from the embarrassment of feeling so light-headed. If that was kissing felt like, Eleanor could have easily done it all day. He pressed his forehead against hers, taking a moment to catch their breaths. She let the intoxicating smell of mint and gunpowder and leather bring her back, her eyes fluttering open like some star-stricken lover, only to find Shay with an unfamiliar look on his face. She could see the moment that realization dawned on him.

“Christ, I’m sorry, that wasn’t proper.” He backed away, but still close enough that the others couldn’t see his face. “A couple of the lads were saying that I wasn’t kissing you right and that they could do better. I had to prove them wrong.”  
“Oh.” Eleanor tried to hide the hurt that struck her. How could she have been so foolish? Of course, it was all for show, this whole thing was a sham, some kind of masculine display of superiority over others. She should have known that he wouldn’t have kissed her like that because he reciprocated the feelings.

“Here.” Shay reached behind her to open the door, holding his hand out for her to use as support.  
_‘Remember, It’s just for show.’_ She reminded herself bitterly as she climbed in, settling the skirts properly so they wouldn’t crease. If one thing wasn't going to be ruined, it would have to be her outfit.  
“I’ll see you later, Ellie.” Shay said.  
“Safe travels.” She said numbly, closing the door herself, hoping that he hadn’t seen the tears welling in her eyes. 

The moment the door closed, she slunk as far as the tight stays would allow her, biting her knuckles, willing herself not to cry. No one should cry on their wedding day, and she would be damned if she was pushed to that point. The carriage lurched forwards, spurring into motion. Watching out of the small window, she could see a flash of white and red be replaced by the familiar black coat, so quickly shedding his formal attire for the Templar uniform. Just like that, he was moving on, leaving her behind without a single glance back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but important chapter, we're getting to the end of the story soon so hang tight!

…

Eleanor had lived in various places over her lifetime. From the cushy life of a merchant’s daughter to the grimy streets of the New York as an orphan, to the initiate’s barn at the Homestead, then the bustling streets of Paris. Everywhere she had lived had given her a strict routine, some sort of hustle and busyness to her life that never left her bored or wanting for more.

Yet this quaint little farmhouse might just be the death of her.

On the far outskirts of the city, she was just under a half a day’s walk to the city, only an hour or two if by carriage or horse. It was far enough away from neighbors to not be able to see much besides the small outline against the horizon, but close enough that she could easily make the walk in all types of weather. The brown house was two stories, glass windows with white shutters that caught her eye every time. The yard wasn't much either, just flat land with bare fruit trees scattered around the back and a suitable field for barley. There was an empty barn filled with hay and what might have been a chicken coop. The only constant noise was a gurgling stream that cut through the property, (Eleanor knew Shay would love to always be close to the water, no matter how small it was), and the wind blowing through the bare branches of a lone maple tree in the front yard. 

The driver dropped her off at the small brown house, looking oddly down at her that she was unaccompanied, especially for a woman who had just wed an hour before. Eleanor, focusing on hiding her frustrations until she was inside the walls, merely curtsied and thank him for the ride. He obviously wasn’t too bothered by leaving her alone, snapping the reins, and trotting off, leaving her alone with only the wind and the stream to fill the void. 

Doing her best not to stomp like a toddler throwing a tantrum, she marched up to the house, yanking out the string of the key from her pocket and unlocking the house. It was just as quiet as she had left it that morning, weak light streaming in through the dreary clouds and into the modestly furnished home. Eleanor had no idea where most of the decorations had come from, but every time she would leave, there would be one or two things new when she returned. 

Today brought a handful of decorative pillows for their sitting room, the embroidery stitched with neat lines and rows that came from years of practice and just a pinch of skill. Whoever had made this must have spent hours on each individual section. Picking up the pillow, Eleanor’s fingers traced the tiny green leaves and pink flowers intricately placed in a beautiful design of a spring day. She took a moment to admire the hard work before shoving her face into the fabric and screaming as loud as she could.  
Although it did nothing to change the situation she was in, it felt wonderful to release the frustration within her. 

Lifting her face to smooth out the poor pillow, her ears caught the slightest noise from the back of the house, a quiet clinking, the sounds of someone else inhabiting her kitchen. Had this been any other time, she would have immediately gone into assassin mode, with blades and guns and everything in between, but her sixth sense paused all of her instincts. It took a moment for her logical mind to put the pieces together, sighing defeatedly, she set the pillow down, slowly making her way to the kitchen. 

There were only eight people besides her who knew the location of their safe house, and only two of them had keys for easy access in emergencies, her husband included. As it turns out, an “emergency” was a loose term for deciding when to pop in and use her kitchen, as the Grandmaster of the Templar Order was busy writing a letter at her table, the servant who had helped to change her crouched over a roaring fire, stirring a large pot of something hearty. The young girl briefly made eye contact with Eleanor as she moved around, grimacing in an apology, whether for entering her house or as if she knew what was about to happen and could do nothing. 

“Peggy, how much longer for the stew?” Mister Kenway didn’t even bother addressing Eleanor as she approached the room, even though she knew he could sense her. She couldn’t help but to linger in the doorway, as if she was the one intruding.  
“It’s ready sir, but the rolls still need another minute or two.” Peggy responded dutifully.  
He hummed, looking over his papers once more before setting them aside.  
“I believe the honeymoon suite needs to be set up for the happy couple. Go fetch them fresh sheets.”  
Eleanor wanted to interject as she had just remade the bed the day prior, but given the urgency of how the younger girl moved around the room, it would have been a moot point. Peggy scurried away, curtsying before her with a small apology before vanishing upstairs. Holding back a tired sigh, Eleanor steeled herself for whatever this next conversation would hold. 

“Most people knock and ask for permission before making themselves comfortable in someone else’s home.” Eleanor waited until the maid was out of earshot before speaking.  
“This is a Templar safe house, therefore by extension it is just as much of my house as it is yours.”  
“Touché.” She pushed off of the wall and strode into the kitchen, eyes set on a kettle that was steaming slightly. “Where did supper come from?”  
“Mrs. Gibson from the dairy farm down the road dropped it off as a welcoming present. She invited you over for tea later this week.”  
“Wonderful.” Eleanor tried not to sound too bitter as she poured a cup of tea, the Earl Grey wafting upwards in a soothing cloud of steam. “Are they apart of the order as well?”  
“No, but their eldest son is quite interested in our cause. Perhaps in a year or so, but now we are focusing on establishing a firm grip on the Colonies.” 

“At least one of the Orders is doing well.” Eleanor rolled her eyes, turning around with her cup of tea. With her drink in hand, she might be more prepared to face whatever it was that he wanted. “Shay isn’t with me. Told me he won’t be back until later tomorrow.”  
“I know, he told me about his mission before he left the church.”  
“Oh.” She said into her cup, trying to hide the worry on her face. Why had he felt more comfortable talking with Kenway than with someone he had grown up with. Even if their marriage was fake, there was still that mutual trust, right?

“However, I am here on Order business.” Kenway reached into his coat pocket, (damn, this man had a flair for the dramatics), smoothing out the papers out on the table.  
“I thought that Shay already did most of the paperwork.” Eleanor tilted her head, looking at the blank parchment laid out.  
“This is…something else, something that only you could help with.”  
“What could I do? I am not a Templar.” Could he stop being so cryptic and just tell her?

“No, but you are an Assassin. Sorry, a former Assassin.” He corrected himself but did not sound apologetic. “You have contacts all throughout Europe, valuable connections with powerful people. The same people who are too dangerous to let live. I need you to tell me of every major figure in your cause. Every politician and lawmaker who aided you, all of the police and gang leaders who turned a blind eye to your actions, and of course every Assassin that could possibly re-ignite the search for the Precursor sites and decimate every ounce of progress that has happened.” 

“Why?” The low pit in her stomach lead her to her own assumptions, but she wanted to hear him say it.  
“You have no allegiance to any of the Assassins anymore, and you know just as well as anyone the corruption and destruction they cause, it goes beyond the Colonies. They are dangerous, and they will need to be stopped, either by our hands or the hands of my brothers across the sea.”

Her heart sunk as she set down her teacup with trembling hands. Now she understood. Why he had been as laid back about this whole arrangement to help hide her, why he had let her get this far with asking for little, was suddenly very, very clear to her. 

“Just to clarify your intentions, you want me to expose the Assassins. To go back on the Creed to satisfy your own wants.”  
“Yes.” Kenway said, scoffing as he responded as if he could not believe that she was this daft.  
This bastard was lucky that she was not near the knife drawer, but to move there now would be too obvious. Her hands trembled, crossing her arms and setting her jaw tight.

“And why should I?” Eleanor shot at him. “While you are an influential man, you have very little hold over me. I owe you nothing.” Heaven forbid that she would roll over and do what he wished, just because he asked her to. The Templars were still her enemy, no matter that she wasn’t an Assassin anymore or that she had just gone and married one of his own soldiers. Eleanor would not be manipulated into submission.

Mister Kenway took his time standing up, the chair scraping against the wooden floors. His grey eyes were narrowed as he approached, like an oncoming storm where she had no choice but to either hold out or run for shelter. This was a man who could end her existence or make her life a living hell, no matter her allegiance, and he would feel no pity for her. At that moment, Eleanor could see why even Master Achilles feared this man.

“It’s not the hold over you that I need to use.” He loomed over her for a moment, just long enough for her to start to regret challenging him before moving away, looking out the kitchen window with his arms folded behind his back. 

“Do you remember Mistress Hope?” The change of topics nearly gave her whiplash, but he had to have brought up the late Assassin master for a reason.  
“Yes, she was another Master Assassin under Achilles.” Eleanor tried to play it off, but knowing him and his resources, he probably already knew of their prior relationship.  
“What did you know of her work in New York?”  
“Not too much. She helped to uncover the Precursor site with the Box while she was stationed in the city.”  
“And how much did you know of her involvement with the gangs?”  
Eleanor paused. “Very little if I am honest.”

The look he sent her way was dark, scheming almost, he had finally caught her in a moment of ignorance.  
“Mistress Hope was the head of the gangs in the city. She gave direction to all of the holdings in New York, all united under one gaudy orange flag. They had free rein and loved every moment of it. You could imagine the anger when they found out she was slaughtered in the streets like a common pig, nearly everyone their burrows raided and their comrades killed. Those who remain have been looking for the killer almost non-stop, terrorizing the streets and the innocent families.”  
“I am not sure I see where you are going with this?” Eleanor wasn’t sure that she wanted to know what his point was, but the suspense and dread were killing her. 

“The point, my dear, is that you do owe me.” He turned once to her again. “As by taking my family's identity, you have been protected from these vagabonds. If those men were to find out that Shay’s wife betrayed the Assassin Order, marrying the Templar who killed their Mistress of all people, I would imagine they would stop at nothing to seek their revenge.”  
“I do not fear for my life.” Eleanor didn’t become a Master Assassin by wishing for it. She was still a killer, and she could definitely hold her own in a fight, particularly if they hadn't had the assassin training that she had.

“No, but you do fear for Shay’s.”  
“But you said that our identities are hidden?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes.  
“For now. But if someone were to leak the scandal of a destitute girl pretended to be my niece, blasting both your name and Shay’s in papers all across the Colonies, even their meatheads could put two and two together.”

The wind was all the noise that filled the air, deafening in the silence.  
“You would do that to Shay if I don’t cooperate?”  
“Yes,” Kenway said simply. “And who would he believe gave the information away, hm? The man who not only help in saving his life after your people shot him in the back, giving him a sense of order and a purpose to keep existing? Or the girl who refused to see the truth until it was much too late, inconveniencing him with a marriage just to keep breathing, who felt scorned because he would not love her back?” 

Eleanor’s hand rose to her face, covering her mouth as she absorbed the underlying threat. He wasn’t wrong. If anyone left the assassin order found out about her deal to save herself, they would not hesitate to tear their lives apart until nothing remained. She knew what blackmail looked like, she had been on the other side too often, and a small part of her insisted that he wouldn’t follow through with it.  
But what if he did? The bastard was cunning enough and perhaps just a bit crazy enough to follow through with little fallback on him.

Her hand shook as she held it to her mouth, trembling in the effort not to give in to the sickening feeling that rose to the back of her throat. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, take the risk of hurting Shay. But this was actively betraying the Creed, to never compromise the brotherhood. It was the one tenant that she knew for certain that she had never broken, as to do so would mean to be branded as a traitor until her dying day. To do so would mean to destroy every belief she had, putting many people in danger, countless families would lose their fathers and children and brothers, all with the stroke of a quill.  
Would she sacrifice hundreds of people for just one man?  
“Tick-tock, I need a decision, Mrs Cormac.” Why couldn’t she have more time? He was asking the impossible of her. Yet they both already knew what she was going to answer, she had no choice. 

The sigh that left her felt like her last breath. “I cannot give you the names without something to write with.”  
Eleanor hated to see the grin on his face, cold and malicious. He knew he held all of the right cards and he knew when and how to play them to best reap the rewards. It left her lifeless and dull, she had just made a deal with the devil. She looked away, walking towards the table like it were the gallows, each step heavier than the last.  
“I’m sure your husband keeps a spare ink bottle and feather somewhere.” Kenway practically sauntered out of the room in search of the needed items. 

Eleanor hardly noticed the small cup in her hand shattering in her grip, breathing heavy but no amount of air would fill her. She felt empty and cold, like the tea dripping from her fingers onto the floor.  
If Kenway noticed the mess when he returned, he said nothing of it, gesturing for her to begin as he sat across from her.

“I will need more paper.”  
“Use the backside.”  
“If you want everyone I know on this list, I will need more paper.” She balanced the delicate writing utensil between her fingers, sending one last apology to her predecessors for her betrayal as she dropped the first inkblot onto the paper. 

The list ended up being three pages. The names written in ink, soon to be drenched in blood, and Eleanor was the only one to blame.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's time! The pining is coming to an end and the story is almost complete. I am living! I hope you enjoy the chapter.

… 

The two days that Shay was gone blurred by for her, busy with running into town to pick up supplies for the two of them and making sure they were stocked up for the big storm that seemed to be brewing on the horizon. She had kept herself focused on the tasks of running a household and too scatterbrained with things to do to even miss her new husband. Even at nights, she would collapse into bed and fall into fitful dreams that kept her from feeling well-rested. Although she could not remember specifics, she woke each time smelling blood and hearing accuses thrown at her; coward, useless, sell-out, an abomination to the Order, and everything it stood for. 

The names that she had given up haunted her, bothering her like an itch in the back of her mind. How could she have given a huge victory to the Templars? That list had been the checkmate for the Brotherhood, and she had shared all of her knowledge to the one man who could ruin everything her brothers and sisters overseas worked for, and for what? For the chance for a man who was once her best friend to like her for more? Each person was one second closer to death thanks to her, and she still had nothing to show for her efforts. Had anything she had done been worth it?

Eleanor was in the middle of making supper, a thick rabbit stew with potatoes and cornbread when she heard the horse hooves approaching. Even without the eagle vision, she knew who had just ridden up to the house, taking their time to take care of the horse to the barn. Should she wait by the door to greet her husband? Or would that make her seem over-eager? They still had yet to talk about what this relationship would consist of. They were married by law, but they had spent most of their lives ignoring the laws. 

The door to the foyer opened and shut, heavy boots thudding off the mud and slush as they were toed off.  
“Hello? Anyone home?” Eleanor couldn’t help the jump in her chest at the familiar Irish lilt.  
“In the kitchen.” She called out, kneeling down by the hearth to stir the stew in the pot. The footsteps crossed the house until they came to a stop near the table, the sound of a jacket dropping onto the chair.  
Eleanor would get up to greet him in a moment, as soon as the cornbread was done cooking. She squinted at the tin, trying to see if it was ready to be moved. 

“A watched pot never boils, Ellie.” Had it not been for her training, she might not have noticed Shay’s approach as he had crouched down beside her, yet she hardly reacted, briefly glancing his way before looking back over at the food.  
“It’s not the pot I’m watching.” She said, hesitating for a moment. “Watch out.” Using her apron to grasp the tin, she swiftly carrying it out of the heat and to the counter, waving her hand briefly. The golden-brown bread was nearly perfect, the dry and warm smell briefly transporting her back to her childhood, where she would help her mother in the kitchen. The bittersweet memory brought a small smile to her face, using a knife to slice the bread.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress before.” Shay glanced over her way, watching as she moved around the kitchen.  
“Most of my clothing went down in the North Atlantic, thankfully I was able to buy several new outfits, but none of the shops would sell trousers in my measurements, so I had to settle for the standard petticoats and stockings.” 

He murmured something intelligible under his breath as he stepped away from the hearth. She figured he was going to sit down at the table, that she would serve him as any good housewife would.  
Yet she felt his arm brush against her as he leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms.  
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have approached you while you have a knife.” Shay’s voice rumbled with his teasing.  
“It’s fine.” She stuttered, placing the knife down. 

“How was your mission?” She asked lightly.  
“It was…it went without a hitch.” Shay paused as if catching himself.  
Eleanor hummed as she focused on preparing supper. For a moment, she had forgotten that they were on two different sides of a war. He had the right to chose not to tell her of their plans, or what he had done in his absence. It wasn’t fair, but it was his right.

Shay’s hand moved from its position on his arm to her hand, looking down when he felt the stiff cloth.  
“What happened?”  
“Oh.” She had nearly forgotten about her injury from the other day, the broken teacup slicing her palm open when it had shattered in her grip. She hadn’t even noticed that she had started bleeding until Mister Kenway told her not to get blood on the paper. The wound had just started to heal, but she kept it bound just in case. “I nicked my hand on a broken cup. Nothing too bad.” 

Whether or not Shay believed her wasn’t said, but he brought it up to his face for inspection, looking over her handiwork with curious eyes. With a soft smile, he turned her palm over, pressing his lips to the bandage.  
Eleanor couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped, feeling his lips even through the linen bandage, tingling from the new sensation.  
She should have felt overjoyed, seeing him act so sweet to her, it was almost like it was real. Several different emotions passed over her, finally settling on confusion. Wasn't this the same man who apologized for kissing her just a few days previous?  
He looked at her face, seeing the naked hesitancy on her face.  
“We should probably talk, the usual place?”

Back before everything happened, their usual place to talk about what each other had missed on missions (or gossip like old ladies at knitting club), had been the sitting room in the Davenport Manor. They would take their dinner later than normal, there was always some food out for the assassins that were coming and going at all times of the day and night, and talk by the fireplace, letting out their frustrations and worries go between the two of them and the embers of the fire. Seeing how it wasn’t possible to go to their place, she figured that he meant their own fireplace.  
She nodded in agreement, they needed to talk.  
“I’ll start a fire while you wrap up.” He squeezed her fingers before turning on his heel to fetch firewood.

It didn’t take long for supper to cook, loading up their bowls with stew. Carrying the two with her apron between the hot ceramic and her hands, she made her way out into the sitting room. Shay was stoking the kindling to life, beaming once it grew into a steady blaze. He accepted the plate of food with a noise of thanks, forgoing using one of the armchairs to sit in, tucking in before she could even sit down properly.

“You have no idea how wonderful home-cooked meals are after living off of rations of dried pork and rum for months.” His full mouth caused a bit of spittle to fly, but he did not seem to care, demolishing his plate in minutes. Eleanor picked at her food, still not finding her appetite after the events of the wedding night. Shay noticed right away, his eyebrows pinched as he watched her push her food around.  
“I’m not that hungry.” She shrugged as she set the plate aside. Especially with such a conversation looming over her, she couldn’t stomach her supper just yet. 

Shay set his empty plate aside, his face dropping. For the first time in Eleanor’s memory, she saw the man sitting opposite her look unsure. His eyes scanned the room around them, finally settling on the hands in her lap as he mimicked the action with his own. It made an imposing man look timid, and that startled her more than it should have. 

“Erm, Eleanor.” She couldn’t remember the last time he had called her by her full name, it had always been Ellie ever since they met. She sat up straighter, now afraid of where this conversation was going. “Are you happy with our…arrangement.”  
“Well, I never thought I would get married in order to save my ass, but yes. I am quite satisfied. I’ve already started drafting plans for the spring to start a nice garden out front and to purchase some goats and pigs. Our neighbor, Mr. Gibson, has agreed to take care of the fields for a portion of the profits in the fall.”  
“That’s good to hear, it really it is, but are you okay? Being with me?”  
“I am.” Eleanor said, fingering the silver band on her left hand.  
“Even though I am a Templar. And you’re an Assassin.”  
“Hard to be an Assassin without a Brotherhood.” She hated that she was parroting what Kenway had said, but it was the truth. “Why do you ask?”

“Master Kenway has given me a list,” Her stomach sunk like a stone. “It has the names of Assassins for me to track down. He believes that they will know where the Precursor box is, and he has tasked me in finding it, no matter the cost.”  
Eleanor blinked several times in order to process his words.  
“Ellie?”

She was on her feet in moments, pacing her way up and down the room, her hands coiling around each other.  
“Next time I see him, I swear I am going to flay him!”  
“What’s wrong?”  
“I knew he was going to use it to his own benefit, but to give it directly to you...” Her voice cut off, too overcome with emotion.  
“What do you mean? You’re not making sense.” Shay asked.  
“The night of our wedding, Mister Kenway came to the house.”  
“I know, I asked him to.” 

Eleanor stopped moving.  
“You asked him?”  
Shay backtracked a little. “Well, not him directly. I had originally wanted Gist to stop by that night to make sure you got home alright, but Master Kenway volunteered.” Shay furrowed his eyebrows when his explanation seemed to stoke her anger.  
“Of fucking course, he would!” Eleanor spat, turning away from Shay.  
“What’s happened?”

“What’s happened?” She spun back to him, seeing that he had stood up now, plates cast aside, and fire burning brightly between them. “Your boss saw an opportunity to manipulate me and force my hand for his benefit, and you let it happen!”  
“Ellie…”  
“And now, all of my accomplices and the people I considered friends, all of them are going to die. At the hands of my husband, no less.” The last part came out harsher than she expected, but it was too late to backtrack now.

“Is that what you think, that I’m a mindless killer? Some guard dog that attacks when prompted?” Shay’s voice rose to match hers, rolling his shoulders back in a move of intimidation. But she wasn’t scared of fighting with him, especially now that she was riled up and righteously angry.  
“That has been your whole mission, hasn’t it? Isn’t that why there are no more assassins on this side of the ocean?” Her arms went to her sides, gesturing at nothing. “You were trying to protect the world, but they only see you as a weapon. Why else did they give you this mission over any other? The Templars may dress it up however they like to help themselves sleep at night, but they have used you, just like they used me.” 

“I became one of them because they cared for me when I thought I was alone in the world, but I acted on my own conscious. I killed those I’d once called brothers and sisters, I killed my fucking best friend in order to save the world! Everything I’ve done with them, for them, has been for the greater good.”  
That was what he called killing off her friends? Or throwing her to the wolves if it got him information. The greater good? Her hands shook and angry tears were burning in her eyes.  
“Including using me to find your next target?”  
“Yes, why can’t you see that?”  
“I’m too caught up in the fact that you betrayed me!”

Shay opened his mouth to refute, but nothing came out. The anger ebbed away from him, his shoulders drooping back down and his eyes losing their intensity.  
“Ellie,” He reached for her.  
“Don’t!” Eleanor shouted. Shay took a small step back from her. “For as long as I can remember, I have been a tool used to gain footing over others. Achilles and the Assassins, Mister Kenway, and the Templars, everyone has sought to utilize me to meet their own ends, then throw me aside once I finished my purpose. At first, I was fine with it, as I thought it was my duty, but now I’m sure that I was just looking for an excuse to let it happen again and again. Then when I try to get out, I find myself back at the start of this endless cycle.” Damn her for allowing herself to cry in front of Shay, angrily wiping her face. “I draw the line, I'm done. I am sick and tired of being a pawn for someone else’s war.” 

“Eleanor.” That was twice in one night, he might finally make it a habit. “I am so sorry.”  
“I am too.” She turned away from him, mostly to hide as more tears fell.  
The room was utterly quiet, save for the crackling of the logs on the fire, she couldn’t even tell if Shay was still in the room. She had just about convinced herself that he had left when she felt arms wrap around her waist, his forehead pressed to the back of her head. 

“Ellie, please forgive me. I have done to you what I feared of others doing to me, it isn’t fair to you.”  
She turned in his arms, his hands moving to grasp hers in both of his. The look on his face shattered any resolve that she held against him, the open anguish and pain was palpable. He wasn’t heartless, he was a pawn like her. All of them were tools in something much bigger than anyone’s war, even if they didn’t know it. She could never stay angry at him. It might lead to her downfall, but then again, what lengths would she not go for this man?  
“I do forgive you Shay, but it still hurts.”  
“I know, I know I have much to make up for, but I swear to you I will be better. I will make this right again.”

“And if your new brothers call to use me again? To dispose of me once they have had enough? Would you kill me?” Eleanor had asked him this question once before, seeing how hurt and torn he had been by the mere mention of hurting her. Now, all she saw on his face was steely determination.  
“I would say no. Not even if you knew where all of the Precursor artifacts were. Not even if you threatened to break the world apart. I won’t use you again.” His voice dropped its intensity.  
“Why? Why am I any different than those before me?”

“Because I care about you more than I have cared about anyone in a very long time. Eleanor, I am in love with you.” 

This confession should have quelled any anger or frustration she had left. This is what she wanted, right? For him to love her? This is why she gave those names to the enemy, but would he really defy the Order who made him who he is today, just for her?  
She shook her head. “Don’t say something you don’t mean. Don’t say it because it is what I want to hear.”  
“Ellie no,” Shay sighed. “I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about my feelings. I think I’ve been feeling this way for a long time, but only now do I feel unafraid to speak my mind, to know what I mean. And I know that you feel the same way.” 

Before Eleanor could ask how or even try to deny her affections, Shay released her, reaching into his waistcoat pocket, pulling out a bundle of letters.  
“My mission wasn’t a Templar mission. I went back to the Homestead to collect some things that were left there before the old man got back, mostly correspondence about Precursor objects and such. I found these in a floorboard under Liam’s desk.” He held them out for her. She carefully took them, flipping them around.  
That was her handwriting, the crusty seal of the letter only freshly broken. Opening it, she found familiar words in bright ink.

_‘My dearest friend. It pains me not to be able to tell you this in person but I have been called away...’_

“This was the letter I wrote to you the day I was called away. I had asked Liam to give it to you, to explain why I left.” She felt numbed at this realization.  
“I had no idea it even existed until yesterday,” Shay explained. “There are more, nearly a dozen letters from your time abroad, stashed away in his room.”  
Eleanor flipped through the letters, these were not her correspondence with information, these were the one-sided letters sent to her friend.

_‘Shay, I saw an assassin mentor shove a terrified novice off of a building today for their first leap of faith. No one could understand why I burst out laughing...’_

_‘I have never been around so many drunk people as I have a fortnight ago. Reminds me of that time of our first mission together with the inn in Boston, the one where you arm-wrestled the drunk man trying to win my favor. I thought it was very noble of you to do...’_

_‘Is it awful that every time I see a new ship come into port, I wish it was your ship here to steal me away? You always promised that you would take me one day...’_

_‘I miss you. More than I’ve missed anyone before, maybe even more than my family to an extent, because I know that you’re alive and well. I miss talking with you and seeing you light up when you were passionate about something. I miss the way you would tease me and then turn it around to encourage me. I wish you would respond back, even just to say you don’t want to hear from me anymore. I miss you about as much as I love you…’_

Heat rose to her cheeks. That last letter was her last-ditch effort to get him to write back to her, she only vaguely remembered writing it, as she had been shit-faced while doing so. Drunk Eleanor was desperate enough to confess, knowing deep down that he would never respond to her.

“Why would Liam hide these?” Eleanor clutched the letters to her chest.  
“You didn't know how Liam felt? About you?”  
Her whole face was engulfed in heat. “He was my mentor. I figured any praise and encouragement came from that aspect of our relationship.”  
“He cared for you, very deeply, but it would have never worked out. Achilles would have never approved of a student/mentor relationship, so he was waiting for you to become a Master Assassin. But then you were abroad, and then I went and mucked everything up for you all.” Shay grimaced as he fiddled with a loose string on his shirt, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see her reaction.

“Oh.” Was all that she could think to say. Now that he mentioned it, the words of praise held a different weight. She should have seen the signs, but with her so desperately chasing after everything else, she wasn’t surprised at her obliviousness. “I never knew. I was too careless, thinking about something else. Someone else.” She ducked her head. Why was she being shy? He knew how she felt, Hell, he felt the same way for her, but it didn’t feel real yet.

“I spent those years thinking you had left me behind, that you had found something better and forgotten about me, when in fact it was the opposite.” The firelight cast a dim glow on his forlorn face, most of his face hidden in the shadow. “I apologize, Ellie. I should not have been so quick to judge, or holding on to the anger I felt.”  
“There is nothing to forgive, Shay. You had your reasons, and without context, you were in the right.” Eleanor said softly, reaching for his hand, the calloused palm twitching as he gripped hers. “Liam should not have hidden the letters from you, no matter who was feeling what. I should be sorry for not being straight forward with you.”

“I- I want to make up for it. I wrote to you, I’ve never been too good with words and stuff, especially with my feelings, but you make me want to try new things.” He bowed his head slightly, rubbing his neck bashfully as he held out a new letter.  
With a small smile on her face, she took the letter and his other hand in her free one, gently leading back to the rug in front of the fireplace for better lighting. He sat across from her, his dark eyes never once leaving her.  
Eleanor tore the top open, finding two thick sheets of parchment tucked inside. Unfolding it, she read: 

_“Ellie,_

_I remember the day that Liam brought a scrappy kid with grubby hands and untrusting eyes to the Homestead, bringing you under the scrutiny of all to see if you were worthy enough to be given a second thought. Many of my peers thought that a strong gust of wind would get you before any Templar would get the chance. But I saw a fire, just embers at the moment, but with the right guidance and enough pestering, could grow into the brightest blaze. And grow you did._

_I think the moment I realized that what I felt went beyond just companionship was when you threw that knife at a novice’s head after a remark on your ability as a female assassin. It nearly cost him an eye. After startling him out of his seat, you had sauntered over, balling up the front of his shirt in your fist and promising that you would take his precious manhood should he make any more comments about you or any other assassin. I remember laughing, not because of his humiliation, but because you had just shown to me that I would never find another lass like you._

_Yet I hesitated. Not only because Liam had expressed his interest, but because I knew that I did not deserve you. You were the upcoming assassin who would blow us all out of the water with your skills. I was the black sheep, the screw up of the Order. I suppose it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, with you becoming the youngest Master Assassin on this hemisphere, and with me defecting to the sworn enemy. I thought that seeing the disgust and betrayal on your face the next time you saw me would kill any lingering feelings I would have, but I still longed to see you. _

_That night in the alleyway, you wanted to know why I would join the Templars, not immediately jumping to blind hatred of me, but seeking reason where there was none to be found. That was the night I knew I loved you, but could never be with you. But the world works in strange ways, as the next time I saw you, you were saving me from a man you used to call brother. Then that night while you were feverish, you confessed, but you didn't remember it when we spoke next. I was ready to retire to the countryside with you the moment we hit land, but Master Kenway had different plans. I don't think anyone planned on us getting married the way that we did, and I tried so hard to be professional with you. Then those letters came to light, and God, I am forever thankful._

_The other Templars, minus Gist who seems to be on my side as much as you are, never approved of my association with you, let alone our relationship, accusing me of wanting to defect, (again), but I realize that I don’t care what they believe, even if it was the Grandmaster. Even if the Father of Understanding himself told me that I should abandon you to your fate, I would tell him to fuck off back where he came from. I’m done with hiding, and I am done with this hesitancy._

_I am in love with my best friend. The girl I shoved off a cliffside and had to rescue when she couldn’t swim. The girl who was willing to listen to me when I was the enemy. The girl who threw a knife at Grandmaster of the Templar Order’s head and made him bleed because she refused to give up hope in a sorry sod like me._

_I know that this is a confusing time, as I have not been the clearest or the best at expressing these emotions to you, but I want to do right by you. I want to be by your side in whatever manner you see fit, whether it is as a friend or as a husband. No matter what you decide, I will be yours. Your happiness means everything to me._

_Faithfully yours,_  
_Shay Patrick Cormac”_

Tears were rushing down Eleanor’s face by the end of the letter, looking up to Shay with shining eyes. He looked petrified, glancing between her and the letter, eyes wide and trying not to look too eager as he took in her reaction. Shuffling forwards on his knees until he was inches away, his thumb reached up, pushing the tear tracks away.  
“What’s on your mind, lass?” He whispered, dark eyes boring into hers as if searching for the answer on her face. 

His words had left her completely speechless for once in her life, so, instead of responding the rush of half-thought words that were aching to be released, she pressed forwards, her lips molding to shape of his own. He let out a deep breath from his nose, both hands raising to cup her face, finally giving in. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, falling headfirst over the edge into the embrace. 

This was worth the wait, and the pain, and the confusion, and the heartbreak. He was worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should totally listen to The Promise by Tracy Chapman when you read this chapter bc I listened to it while writing and I am still crying over how well it fits...

**New York, 1776**  


There was something about the dawn of fall that made the world feel like it was filled with possibilities, although winter was drawing closer and closer every day, there was still a hint of summer lingering. Although the ground was muddy and wet from constant rain showers, the red and gold leaves scattered around like confetti. Even mucking out the stalls was something that wasn’t as unpleasant as usual. Eleanor wiped her brow as she finished stamping down the last bit of hay, pushing the straw hat back until it fell behind her shoulders. Farm life was no walk in the park, but it kept her busy enough. Every night she went to bed pleasantly sore and feeling tired from a long day of working in the open air, feelings that she never thought would be something she would be grateful for. 

Every day that she was alive was a gift. There was a time in her life where she thought she wouldn’t live to see her thirtieth birthday. Now she was a decade and some change past that, enjoying every spare moment that the Universe granted her and not wasting a single second. With that mindset, even mucking out the stalls in the growing heat couldn’t have been as bad.

Rubbing the horses face gently, Eleanor made her way out of the barn into the bright day. The distant sound of clucking alerted her of the chickens returning to their coop, reminding her that she needed to fetch the eggs, but that was further down on her to-do list. First, she had to hang the linens and towels out while there was still a breeze, then check on the meat smoking in the shed, and by the time that she had finished with her list of chores, it would be time to pick up the children from their lessons. 

Her children. Eleanor couldn’t help the smile growing on her face at the thought. The pride and joy of her and her husband, again something she never would have fathomed as a 20-something-year-old. She would have done anything for her children to ensure that they didn’t suffer even a smidge of what she had in her childhood. Not even her eldest knew of her past or what their father was truly doing, although it was something she would have to discuss soon, as her daughter was wanting to court the neighbor’s youngest son, an aspiring Templar. Former allegiances aside, she wanted her children to make their own choices of their future, whether that would join the Order or living their own lives. 

Eleanor hoisted the laundry basket onto her hip, glancing inside of the house to see her youngest son, Edmund, still napping. Nine months old and he was already looking much like his father, more dark hair than Eleanor would have thought possible on a baby. She left the door open so she could hear when he woke up for his mid-afternoon snack, and he was a very loud screamer when he was hungry. Shaking out the damp cloths, she pinned them to the line, letting the breeze wick away the moisture. 

She had just finished the last of the sheets when there was a distant whinny, almost lost to the babbling of the stream and the leaves on the maple tree. Her hands froze, her ears straining to try to pick up on the faint noise.  
One horse, judging on the pattern of hooves against the ground, making their way down the dirt path, but more than one rider if the speed was telling her anything, a mere walk instead of a canter. There wasn't much foot traffic out their way, most of the land was owned by lower-middle-class citizens, most of whom took the main roads to get back to their farms. But the horse was growing closer. Eleanor could feel her heart rate pick up, ducking out of the way of the laundry to see who was stopping by. 

He said he wouldn’t be back until early next week, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. But she still waited, wiping her sweaty face with her apron. She shouldn’t get this excited, especially if it happens to be one of his associates coming to check on her, but the feeling in her gut said differently.  
Then, cresting over the hill of their property was a figure she knew all too well, guiding a chestnut mare by the reins, carrying two smaller figures on its back. 

He had written her that the mission was delaying him, but Shay Cormac was one to defy expectations. 

She gathered her skirts and set off at a brisk walk. She knew the expectation was for her to wait patiently for him to join her at the house, to kiss his cheek, and save the excitement of his return for behind closed doors. But damn those expectations. They were mostly open with their affections, (save for certain acts designed for privacy), but she wanted everyone to know how deeply she felt for her husband, and of his love for her, damn whoever could see them. 

So nothing was stopping Eleanor from now running across the grassy plains towards Shay. He dropped the reins and held his arms out for her. Not even their age could have stopped him from sweeping her in his arms as she reached him, spinning with the momentum, hugging her tightly in his arms and he pressed his face to her neck. They stayed like that for a prolonged moment, laughing and taking each other in. Sure it had been nine months since his last stop home, and he most certainly had been away for longer, but this time had felt like an eternity apart. She held his face in her hand as they parted, Shay, turning his head to kiss her palm with a grin as bright as the sun. Even with her children watching, she pulled down her husband by his silky white cravat for a kiss, reveling in the warmth of it, like the first sunlight after a harsh winter.

“Mum. Da.” She could hear the groan of her eldest child as the horse drew near. Morgan Cormac was turning sixteen this winter but was already blooming into a proper young lady. Despite the protest, Eleanor could see the dimpled smile on her face, mirroring her father’s. Her eldest son, Daniel reacted like any eight-year-old boy would and made a retching sound at seeing their embrace.  
“You will understand one day, darling.” Eleanor said, finally taking her eyes off her husband to look at her children. Shay grasped her hand as they walked together back to the house. 

“If you ever let me get married that is.”  
“I didn’t get married until I was 27 and I do not regret it.” Eleanor said, squeezing her husband’s hand.  
“That’s forever Mum. Robert doesn’t want to wait that long, at this rate, Daniel will be getting married before I do.” Morgan whined.  
"It's not up to Robert, now is it?" Eleanor raised her eyebrows, Morgan backing down with a quiet "No Mum."  
“Thank your mother that I’m not in charge,” Shay interjected as they came upon the barn, “‘cause I’d keep you in the house until you were at least 30.”  
Shay was particularly protective over his only daughter and, even though he knew the young Mr. Gibson from being in the Order, he would rather eat his shoes than admit to her that he liked the young man she was interested in. He had already made plans to discuss courtship with Mr. Gibson later on this year. If they were lucky, there would be wedding bells before she was 30.

Morgan wrinkled her nose, accepting her father’s hand to guide her off the horse. Daniel didn’t even wait for the opportunity, launching himself off the saddle and falling into a haystack. His head popped out first, sandy hair nearly matching the color of the hay.  
“I’m _never_ getting married. Girls are gross.” He  
“Let’s keep that attitude for a long time now.” Eleanor agreed as she pulled him up and brushed the hay from his clothes. 

“Ma, did you know what Da got me?” Daniel tugged on her arm as they went to the house.  
“It’s not just for you, it’s for all the kids.” Shay clarified, patting his satchel. “We’ll show it as soon as you two wash up.” Both kids scampered inside, already arguing about who got to wash first. 

Eleanor sighed quietly, Shay creeping into her space now that they were alone, kissing her deeply. They pulled away, gently resting their foreheads against another.  
“Hello to you too,” Eleanor said with a small laugh. “I thought your letter said you wouldn’t be back for another week?”  
“We managed to catch a couple of good sailing days. Made an incredible time. Gist said it was Lady Luck helping out, but I said—”

“Shay no-”  
“I..."  
"Don't even think about it-"  
"Make..."  
"I swear to Christ if you finish that sentence…"  
"My own luck.” He ignored her plead, kissing her in a cheeky apology. Eleanor smacked his side playfully. 

“I’m glad that you’re home safe. With all that is going on between the British and the colonists, I was nervous that you would have trouble docking.” War had firmly grasped the colonies now, young men in patchwork blue uniforms marching around New York constantly now. She had pulled the kids from their previous schooling in order to keep a better eye on them. She had heard of skirmishes happening in the city, and she wanted to distance her children from them as much as possible. 

“The Harbormaster knows better than to halt my docking. They know the wrath of my wife when she is missing her husband.”  
Eleanor groaned as she buried her face in his coat. 

Back when Morgan was just a baby, she had gone to meet her husband at the docks, but due to some miscommunication, they had kept the _Morrigan’s_ crew from disembarking. It hadn’t been a paperwork issue, but a sullen man’s contempt. Her escort, Mister Johnson, had offered to fetch Mister Kenway to smooth things out but Eleanor, exhausted from a night of keeping up with her baby’s needs and lack contact with her husband, was beyond her wit's end. Tucking the bundle close to her chest, she had snatched the Harbormaster’s tie and smashed his face into the counter. She held her hidden blade to his face and demanded that he stop being a bastard and let the men dock, or she would do much worse to his face. Needless to say, he immediately let them go.  
They haven’t had a problem since. 

“And I’d do it again, even just to see the looks on Mister Johnson and Mister Kenway’s face.” It had been the only time she had left any Templar speechless, turning from the cold-blooded assassin to a doting wife and mother as soon as she saw her husband disembark his ship, cooing over their daughter.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to see you like was that day.” Shay admitted, she whacked him again with a sour look. Before he could retaliate, the pounding of footsteps drew them apart. 

“Alright, come close.” He ushered his children close as Eleanor grabbed Edmund from his crib, settling down next to them as Shay dug around in his bag. “This was a toy that I liked to watch as a kid, but you have to promise me that you will not light it unless your mother and I are home, promise?” He pointed the question more at Daniel, who had a tendency to want to try things on his own. Both kids nodded, eagerly waiting to see what he had brought. Eleanor wondered what dangerous tool he had brought them as he assembled it with familiar motions. Just as she was about to protest, she recognized the device. 

He dug out a pack of matches, lighting the candle inside the canister and inserting one of the glass slides into the slot. Daniel roared with delight at the images cast on the walls, waking Edmund from his nap. Eleanor feared that he would start crying at the rude awakening, but he gurgled and laughed at the shadows on the wall.  
“It’s called a Magic Lantern. There are several inserts that you can choose from, and you just need to slide it in here.” Shay demonstrated again, the delight palpable as the kids clapped excitedly. 

“Do you think this could occupy you three for long enough that I can speak to your mother?”  
Eleanor looked to Shay with a slightly concerned face. They tried to practice an open environment with no secrets between each other, not even at Christmas. This must have been super serious for them to discuss in private.  
Morgan immediately picked up on the vibe, offering her arms to take Edmund.  
“It’s alright, I’ll watch the two of them.” Shay gently patted his daughter’s shoulder as Eleanor passed off the youngest to her. 

“We’ll be in my office, no fighting.” Shay wrapped an arm around Eleanor as he led them to his study, a place that was not frequented when he was gone.  
He shut the door, breathing a heavy sigh.  
“If this was just an excuse to be alone—“ Eleanor started to tease, but judging by the serious look on his face, it wasn’t one of those times. He gently worked off his belts and weapons as he sat in his chair. At that moment, she could see the age catching up with him, the grey hair and wrinkles more prominent than before. 

“What’s going on Shay?” Eleanor strode across the room, gently resting against the desk close to him.  
“I’ve found the Precursor Box.”  
“You did?” Ever since that night of his proposal under the northern lights all those years ago, he had been searching almost non-stop for this object. Seventeen years, three kids and many, many dead ends later, he had finally found it. She would have thought he would have been over the moon at the end of his search. “Where?”  
“France.” 

Oh. Now she could see why he was hesitant at telling her. She had spent many years in France, she knew the Brotherhood just as intimately as she had known the Colonial section. She knew the people and the politics and structure very well, which meant that she knew who must have had the Box when Shay got to them.  
“I don’t want to know.” She turned her face away, but he pulled her back.  
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Ellie.” He rubbed her cheek gently. He had always been good about not telling his missions to her, unless it could impact her or their children or if it was something she had asked about, he kept the details hushed. “I won’t do that.”

“So, where is the Box now? Did you deliver the artifact to Mr. Kenway?”  
“Not exactly.” He mumbled, eyes glancing towards his satchel.  
“Shay, darling, please tell me that you did not bring a super powerful and horrifically dangerous object into our house.”  
“Let’s say I didn’t and you just never check my bag.” He grimaced.

“Why?” Eleanor had to use every ounce of common sense to not scream. “Why not drop it off at the Fort, where it can be kept safe and sound and far, far away from here.”  
“I couldn’t drop it off there because there was no one there.”  
“You brought it here because no one was home?”  
“The Fort was completely abandoned. It looked as if no one had been there for months.”

“The main Templar hideout was completely abandoned? How come?”  
“I had no idea. But the moment I exited, I was approached by a courier, he had been set up for days waiting for my arrival. I got this letter.” Shay held up a slightly crinkled note, the Templar seal unbroken. “It’s from Master Kenway.”  
“What does it read?” Eleanor pushed herself off the desk to read over his shoulder. It was completely in code, basically Greek to her, so Shay read:

_‘Master Cormac,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I do apologize for the confusion that you may be feeling, but it is completely necessary, as you will understand once you have read this letter. There have been many developments over the last two months since your last correspondence, ones that we fear may impact the future of our Order._  
_As I write this, we have recently lost another member of the Order, Thomas Hickey, as his plot to assassinate George Washington and his ring of counterfeit has failed. It is as we have feared, the Assassins have grown once more as the colonies unite for war, guided under Achilles Davenport and spearheaded by my own blood._

_Although it is unprecedented, I have measures set in place to help maintain our Order’s growth, even should the worst should come to pass. We have moved headquarters to another undisclosed location, (one I cannot discuss with you yet, should this letter be intercepted), and resources have been directed to other outlets so that we may not fall to financial ruin as the Assassins hope._

_As far as I am aware, these new Assassins have no more knowledge of your existence. Perhaps Achilles believes there is still good in you for saving his life and that you and your family are to be spared from their rampage. We wish to maintain this ignorance, even if I should need to step in and distract the boy myself. Maybe it is the slight optimism that hasn’t been squashed, but there is a chance that the boy could be swayed to reason, as he is naive and trusting to a fault._

_As the future for my inner circle looks grim, I have requested to instate you as Grandmaster upon my death. I have pride in your accomplishments and what you have achieved, you certainly went above and beyond the call of duty, perhaps Colonel Monro was correct in his assumption that you would become the best of us. I have little doubts that you will not let us down._

_May the Father of Understanding Guide Us,_  
_H. Kenway’_

Shay set his jaw as he laid the papers out on his desk, clasping Eleanor’s hand when she reached for him. There was so much happening in the singular letter.  
“That was…”  
“A lot, yeah.” Shay rubbed his face. “Hickey is the third one in Haytham’s inner circle to die. Johnson and Pitcairn both have perished, besides myself, that leaves Church and Lee.” 

“Kenway has a son.” Eleanor shook her head.  
“He’s a few years older than our Morgan, half-Mohawk if I remember correctly.”  
“He told you?”  
“Drunkenly. From what I remember, he had an affair with a woman who helped him just before he became the Grandmaster. He had no idea that the boy existed until he saw him at that Massacre in Boston.” 

“And now he’s an Assassin, under Achilles. The boy must be quite a threat if he’s got Kenway making backup plans.”  
“He’s trying to make it as hard as possible for the Assassins to gain any sort of support.” Shay held up another parchment, this time written in English. “Wait, is this…?”  
Eleanor snatched the paper away. 

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.  
“With this will and testament, I bequeath any and all inheritance owned to one, Eleanor Scott Cormac, the last heiress of the Kenway line.” Eleanor parroted. “I didn’t know Master Kenway had this much money set aside. Or at all.”

“Guess he’d rather give it to a former Assassin who isn’t even related to him rather than his own son.” Her hand covered her mouth. “This is enough to set our children and our grandchildren for the rest of their lives. He’s a terrible man, but he’s a man with power and influence that just gave us more money than we’ll know what to do with.”  
“He’s probably going to want it to go to the future order.” Shay burst her bubble.  
“Once he’s dead, he’ll never know the difference.” She shrugged. But she still had one question bothering her. “He didn’t mention anything about finding other artifacts.”  
“No, he didn’t.” Shay turned to her. “It looks like I am staying still for a while.”

Eleanor felt her face stretch wide in a smile. This was probably the best news out of the entire day, even more than the money given to her. No more long trips to follow a wild goose chase, no more long-distance and constant questions of when their father will be back. Her husband was staying put for a long period of time.  
“Should we tell the kids?”  
“Absolutely.” His face shone with happiness, pulling her into a hug, kissing her hairline with so much affection, that she felt like she would melt.

For a moment, she was transported back in time. Before wrinkles and sunspots and constant aches, before heartbreak and betrayals and pain. For that moment, they were just Shay and Eleanor. And at that moment, they could do anything, as long as they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end... :(
> 
> but will it be the last time I write about these characters? Hell no!
> 
> Drop a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this story, stay on the lookout for my other AC fics coming potentially soon!


End file.
